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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820624">and i bloom right into you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangaf/pseuds/yangaf'>yangaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>College AU, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, THE COLLEGE AU IS HERE BABY, soccer player!adora, sorority girl!catra, these kids are both very very damaged but they love each other and help each other heal, yes i will be going into adora's trauma bc homegirl deserves better it's true</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:06:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangaf/pseuds/yangaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Catra notices the slope of her hip bones, the bulk of her arms, and the hard, defined planes of her stomach.  She notices the crinkle in her eyes with laughter and the drips of sweat gliding down sharp collarbones.</p><p>What she doesn’t notice, however, is that her Audi has veered off of the road and is cruising towards a tree.</p><p>or</p><p>After the world’s most unorthodox meet-cute, Adora and Catra find the love in each other that they had been craving their entire lives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1444</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. spandex & sunshine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ITS FINALLY HERE BITCHESSSS</p><p>enjoy this multi-chapter semi-slowburn of catra and adora meeting, falling in love, helping each other heal, and being lesbians.  yes they are damaged.  yes they fall in love and overcome it.  basically, just enjoy it.  enjoy them.</p><p>for headcanons, shitposting, and updates, follow my tumblr: yangaf.tumblr.com</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Catra has never been so sweaty in her entire life.</p><p>The soccer stadium is packed to the brim with loud, clamoring people, smelling wretchedly of sweat and cheap food.  In front of her, Scorpia laughs at something being said to her by a random person.  In her haste to find somewhere to finally sit, Catra pushes in front of Scorpia to shove a <em> ‘Kappa Delta x Alpha Gamma Delta Dance Marathon Fundraiser!’ </em> flyer into the person’s hands.  Scorpia shoots her a disapproving look before apologizing quickly to the person and running up the bleachers to catch up to Catra.</p><p>“You know, Wildcat-,” Scorpia starts, and Catra cringes at the lilt in her voice, “-you could be a bit nicer to people.  Might make it easier to get them to come to the fundraiser.”  Catra groans.</p><p>“First of all, how many times have I told you to not fucking call me that?” Catra snaps, but Scorpia just chuckles lightly, seemingly unaffected by the venom in her voice. “Second, who fucking cares?  People pay to show up and get sloshed, and only fifteen percent of the donations go to the charity.  The rest goes to the school.  It’s literally a lost cause.”</p><p>But Scorpia just laughs again, throwing an arm around Catra, and it takes every muscle in her body not to flinch away from Scorpia’s tall frame.  “Oh, Catra.  I knew the humidity was bad, but sheesh!  Lighten up a little, will ya?  We handed out enough flyers to be done for the day.  We can watch the game- oh!”  Scorpia removes her arm to reach into her pocket and pull out her buzzing phone.  </p><p>“Okay, Kyle just texted, and he says that he and Rogelio are in section four, row two.  Wow, those are good seats!”  Before Catra can object to staying out in the sun for another two hours, Scorpia wraps a gigantic hand around her wrist and pulls her up the stairs.</p><p>They squeeze their way past another fifty-ish people before finding the downward staircase to lead to the section.  Scorpia drags Catra out of the archway and into the stadium seating, and she’s once again immersed in bright, burning sunlight.</p><p>Catra huffs, blowing a loose, tight curl away from her eyes.  <em> The humidity is so fucking bad for her hair. </em></p><p>The sun is hot and high in the sky, burning tan lines into those who are unlucky enough to have forgotten sunscreen in Etheria’s heat.  Now that they’re closer to the field, the smell of  freshly-cut grass begins to overpower the smell of sweat that Catra has been cringing at for the last thirty minutes.  The stadium itself is gigantic- four jumbotrons on each arch of the circular stadium, thirty rows of seating, and decorated with a number of flags, banners, and tournament titles.  All of the jumbotrons are currently playing the same Chick-Fil-A advertisement, but the words are drowned out by the Lil Uzi Vert song blasting through the stadium’s speakers.</p><p>Catra remembers, back to her freshman year, when the announcement of the school’s new soccer stadium came out.  Her sisters had complained,<em> ‘But it’s not fair!  Why can’t we get a new house?  One national championship and the President decides to give them a brand new stadium?’ </em></p><p>That was three National Championship titles ago.  </p><p>Catra’s not one to keep up with any kind of sport, really, unless she happens to glance at her school email and see announcements about their sports teams’ accomplishments.  Bright Moon University’s soccer team has won three consecutive National Championship titles, she knows this, and there’s a <em> ‘13’ </em> soccer jersey that’s plastered on the display of every campus store and every other shop in town.</p><p>Safe to say, Bright Moon University is a soccer school, now.  The boys from Sigma Epsilon always make it a point to loudly complain about how bad their football team is at the date functions that Catra gets dragged to.</p><p>Scorpia drags Catra down the long, hot stairs of the bleachers, and then she lets go of Catra’s wrist to wave her arms wildly above her head. </p><p>“Kyle! ‘Helio!” she yells loudly, jumping up and down.  A pale, skinny boy and a muscular, green-haired boy both crane their heads towards Scorpio a few rows up.</p><p>“Scorpia!” the skinny boy yells back, beckoning them to their row.  Catra groans internally before stomping after Scorpia, hoping that if they sit next to each other, Scorpia’s huge shadow will block some of the sun from her hair.</p><p>They find their seats next to Rogelio and Kyle, and Catra yelps when her bare thighs touch the hot metal of the bleacher’s seat.  Rogelio taps on her shoulder. </p><p><em> “You will get used to it,” </em> he signs, his eyes sympathetic.  Catra shrugs and huffs as she gently tries to lower herself back down again.</p><p>Once she’s uncomfortably settled, she sets her gaze out onto the field, where players from both teams have started to trickle out. </p><p><em>‘THE BRIGHT MOON WARRIORS VS. THE ERELANDIA PILGRIMS’ </em>the scrolling texts at the bottom of the jumbotrons reads.  The Bright Moon players are easiest to identify- their white and gold uniforms are a stark contrast against Erelandia’s red and silver jerseys. </p><p>Catra scans her eyes across the field, bored, before-</p><p>
  <em> Wow. </em>
</p><p>A blonde girl has just made her way out onto the field, and Catra flinches when the cheers in the stadium start to pick up.  The girl smiles up at the jumbotron and points to the commentator’s box before running back towards the side of the field where most Bright Moon players are warming up.  From their close seats, Catra is able to see the girl’s face easily, but not clearly.  She sees long, wheat hair tied back into a ponytail, and a small tuft of hair sticking up above her forehead.  Her eyes are big, her cheekbones are sharp, and Catra can tell that the girl is absolutely <em> shredded </em>.  Her smile, wide and genuine, beams out at the crowd as she jogs towards her team, and Catra finds herself mildly entranced.  She leans forward, just slightly, to get a closer view.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Kyle fidget in his seat and adjust the collar of his soccer jersey, <em> ‘13’ </em> plastered in bold, golden letters on the back. </p><p>“Aw, man.  I’ve never been to a soccer game before!  Adora’s going to knock some heads today.  I’ve only seen her play on TV.”</p><p>Catra clears the back of her throat that she didn’t know was dry.  “Uh, who’s that?”</p><p>“You’ve <em> never </em> heard of Adora Grayskull?” Scorpia gasps, her eyes wide and incredulous.  Catra rolls her own.</p><p>“What kind of a fucking name is ‘Adora Grayskull’?”</p><p>“You call yourself ‘Catra’, <em> Catrina</em>.”</p><p>“Scorp’, I am NOT above clawing your fucking eyes out.”</p><p>“She’s the really tall, blonde one,” Scorpia says quickly, changing the subject.  She raises a finger to point to her on the field, and Catra follows the direction to- <em> of course </em>- the tall girl in the center, now stretching her arms above her head.  Catra’s eyes fall to her abdomen, where her jersey has lifted up just enough to reveal the sharp cut of her hip bones. </p><p>“She’s ESPN’s Collegiate MVP for, like, the third year in a row.  Her story is absolutely wild, and she’s, like, the most famous college athlete in the country.”</p><p>Catra hums distractedly.  Her eyes stay on Adora’s muscular frame, watching as she bends down to do a few quick push-ups.  The muscles in her biceps strain deliciously from the strain of pushing her large body back up.  She stands again to jog in place slightly, bouncing around before a purple-haired teammate runs over to her.  The girl puts a hand on Adora’s shoulder and leans up on her toes to yell something in her ear, and Adora nods slightly.  She looks down- <em> way down </em>- at the purple-haired girl next to her, gives her a smile, and they bump arms.</p><p>“I know that look,” Scorpia’s voice says next to Catra.  Catra tears her eyes away from the blonde girl to raise an eyebrow at her friend.  “You think she’s hot,” she teases.</p><p>Catra can’t stop the small blush that crawls up her neck.  “Jesus, Scorp’,” she huffs, crossing her arms.  “I’ve never been to a soccer game before.  Maybe I’m just looking at the players.  God.”  She manages to hide the defensive tone of her voice, but after knowing Scorpia for three years, Catra knows that she can’t really hide anything from her.</p><p>“I mean,” Scorpia drawls, glancing at Catra, “She’s all over the internet.  There’s a bunch of ESPN videos and articles about her.  She’s super famous on Instagram, too.  You could probably Google her.”  She pauses.  “You should definitely Google her.”</p><p>Catra scoffs, loudly.  Scorpia raises an eyebrow.  “Uh, okay.  I’m not going to fucking Google her.  That’s, like, creepy as shit.”  She looks back out onto the field and tries to restrain herself from finding Adora’s figure.  “When is the fucking game starting, anyw-”</p><p>The stadium goes dark.  The crowds silence, and Catra sees the trio next to her raise their necks to look at the closest jumbotron.  She does the same.</p><p><em> “BRIGHT MOON UNIVERSITY!” </em>  the announcer’s voice booms.  <em> “PLEASE WELCOME TO THE FIELD OUR GUESTS, THE ERELENDIA PILGRIMS!” </em></p><p>Catra laughs as she hears the stadium erupt into jeering, and is mildly surprised to see Scorpia, as good natured as she is, throwing her middle finger up at the players that take their places on the left side of the field.  They look tired, small, and wildly scared for the coming game.</p><p>When the jeering subsides, the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers once again.  <em> “AND NOW, PLEASE WELCOME OUR REIGNING NATIONAL CHAMPIONS, THE BRIGHT MOON WARRIORS!” </em></p><p>The stadium erupts into absolute chaos, cheering and screaming and yelling.  Catra’s body is jostled as Scorpia jumps up from her seat to cheer their home team on as they take their places on the right side of the field.  The stadium is still dark, and Catra lets herself make an effort to find Adora on the field before the jumbotron lights up.</p><p>A song- <em> the remix to Roses by SAINt JHN, Catra notes- </em> begins to play.  The jumbotron lights up with the headshots of the Bright Moon players on the field, and the announcer calls out their names, positions, and jersey numbers with vigor.</p><p>
  <em> “NUMBER TWENTY-THREE, LEFT FORWARD, GWENYTH 'GLIMMER' MOON!” </em>
</p><p>Catra lets her jaw drop.  <em> Glimmer Moon from Tri Delta is on the fucking soccer team?  When the fuck did she dye her hair purple? </em></p><p>“SCORPIA!” she yells to her friend over the screaming of the stadium, “GLIMMER MOON IS A FUCKING SOCCER PL-”</p><p><em> “AND FINALLY,” </em> the announcer yells, sounding much more excited, <em> “YOUR TEAM CAPTAIN, YOUR THREE-TIME ESPN M.V.P OF THE YEAR, NUMBER THIRTEEN, CENTER FORWARD, ADORA 'SHE-RA' GRAYSKULL!” </em></p><p>Catra darts her eyes back up to the jumbotron in just enough time to catch a view of Adora’s player headshot, bright and big on the screen.</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  She’s gorgeous. </em>
</p><p>Her eyes are bright and blue, accented by dark and perfectly-sculpted eyebrows.  One eyebrow is slightly raised, and she looks smug.  Her smile is lopsided, showing off diamond teeth before her lips curve up into a pretty, small dimple.  Her cheekbones <em> are </em> sharp, but so is the rest of her face- her jaw is cut and set, her cheekbones give her face definition, and the tendons of her neck are covered by long, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders.  Her nose curves into a cute button, and her lips are full and pink, defined by her small cupid’s bow.  There’s a small set of faded, dual scars on the right side of her jaw, tapering down and disappearing under its angle.  Her skin is tan, and one of her muscular arms is holding a soccer ball against her hip.</p><p>Catra finds herself mesmerized.  It doesn’t help that her player statistics are plastered next to her headshot, and Catra licks her lips when she reads <em> ‘6 FT’</em>.</p><p>All too soon, the picture on the screen cuts away from Adora’s picture and fades into a small video as the song’s beat drops.  The stadium grows impossibly rowdier as the jumbotrons display videos of the team in action- scoring goals, performing trick shots, and posing for the video.  Catra watches, in awe and disbelief, as a clip of Adora plays.  She’s jumping, in slow motion, above another team’s player in order to hit the ball with her head.  The next one, she’s floating above the ground and her entire body is turned towards the camera in mid-air, the top of her foot making its way towards a collision with the ball speeding towards her.  The last clip takes Catra’s breath away- Adora’s jumping higher than she did in the last clips and turning herself upside down in the air to kick a ball that’s too high for any other player to reach.  The video returns to normal speed as she kicks the ball, twists, lands on both feet, and takes off across the field.</p><p>
  <em> Holy shit. </em>
</p><p>She looks absolutely stunning in all of the footage- her face a picture of sheer determination and grace as she moves faster than all of the other Bright Moon players.  Her lips are parted slightly in exertion, beads of sweat are gliding down her temples, her arms and legs flex with strain, and her eyes radiate a harsh glare of pure willpower.</p><p>Catra doesn’t notice the end of the video until the lights in the stadium come back on and the song fades away.  A moving mass of gold and white catches her eye as the Bright Moon players huddle near where Catra, Kyle, Scorpia, and Rogelio are sitting, close to the field.  Adora bounds over to them, energetic and fierce.</p><p>“WHAT DON’T THEY WANT!?” Adora screams to her team, and <em> oh, </em> her voice is strong and low, carrying a tone of command that sends a shiver up Catra’s spine. <em>  Is that an accent? </em></p><p>Catra’s eyes shoot up when the huddled players scream back at Adora.</p><p>
  <em> “THEY DON’T WANT TO SEE US WINNING!” </em>
</p><p>Adora muscles her way into the team huddle.  They clasp each other’s shoulders and bow their heads as they begin to sway from side to side.</p><p>
  <em> “L’IL KODAK, THEY DON’T LIKE TO SEE YOU WINNIN’, THEY WANNA SEE YOU IN THE PENITENTIARY!  I NEED ME A L’IL BABY WHO GON’ LISTEN, GIRL I DON’T WANNA BE THE ONE YOU IGGIN’!” </em>
</p><p>Their chanting is loud, off-beat, and completely out of tune.  <em> “Looks like the Warriors have begun their famous pre-game ritual!” </em> the announcer yells into the stadium.  <em> “Tunnel Vision by Kodak Black was playing when Adora Grayskull scored the winning goal of the 2018 National Championship game, and ever since then, the team has been singing it before their games as an omen of victory!” </em></p><p><em> “MY MAMA TOLD ME, ‘BOY MAKE A DECISION’, RIGHT NOW I GOTTA KEEP A TUNNEL VISION!  THEY SENDING ALL MY HOMIES ON A MISSION, AND I AIN’T TRYNA MISS OUT ON THESE MILLIONS!” </em>the team continues, their energy growing.</p><p>The stadium begins to sing loudly with the team, and the jumbotron blows up live footage of the team’s huddle.  As the stadium begins to sing, Catra sees Adora’s head pop up from the huddle.  She’s pushed into the center of the circle, and, in front of millions of people across the country, begins to <em> dance</em>.  </p><p>Horribly.</p><p>She jumps around the center of the circle to different teammates, swinging her arms around her head.  Her team begins to laugh, but they keep singing, as Adora begins to touch her forehead with the foreheads of some players and beat on the chests of others.  Adora approaches Glimmer, who Catra notices is the shortest of the huddle, and grabs the back of her neck to sing at her.  She makes it a point to go to every person in the huddle, interacting with them in a small but personal way as they prepare for the game.  The team sways with Adora, and their energy breathes a new wave of life into the restless, excited stadium.  Catra can’t fight the small smile that grows on her face, and soon, they finish.</p><p>The life in the stadium fades into quiet anticipation as the players take their true positions on the field.  Catra finally, finally, spots Adora, crouching down right at the center line.  Glimmer is off to her back right, a dark-skinned girl to her back left, and a large young woman is left defending Bright Moon’s goal.  Other players are splayed out between where Adora stands and where the goalie is positioned, and Catra scoots forward slightly, ignoring the burn of new skin on the searing heat of the bleachers.</p><p>The ball is thrown to Erelandia’s goalie.  She makes the throw.  The field erupts into movement.</p><p>Adora catches Catra’s sight immediately.  She towers over the rest of the players, but she moves so quickly that she has to move her neck to keep up with her.  At break-neck speed, Adora runs up on the Erelandia player with the ball.  In one movement, she swipes the ball from under her running feet and begins dashing towards the other side of the field.</p><p>The stadium erupts into screaming again as the crowd begins to cheer Adora on.  Two Erelandia players run at Adora, who kicks the ball straight into the air and punts it with her head towards the teammate just adjacent to her.  The girl runs with the ball until Adora’s made her way around her blockade before quickly kicking the ball back to Adora, who picks up speed once more.</p><p>Erelandia's goalie doesn’t have time to even react when the ball hurdles into their goal.</p><p>
  <em> “THAT’S ALREADY ONE FOR THE WARRIORS!  NOT EVEN THIRTY SECONDS IN!” </em>
</p><p>A close up of Adora is put up on the jumbotron as her teammates all run towards her, clapping her on the shoulder.  She’s grinning, proud and wild, and Catra’s eyes widen when she sees that Adora hasn’t even broken a sweat.  Glimmer runs up to her and throws her arms and legs around her, and Catra’s eyes are drawn to Adora’s lips as they curve up into a smile.  Another teammate throws herself onto Adora’s tall frame, and then she’s carrying <em> two grown women </em> with both of her arms.</p><p>Catra clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her seat.  Scorpia shoots her a glance, which she pointedly ignores.  “The heat getting to you again?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Catra says flippantly, “Sure.”</p><p>She had completely forgotten about the heat.</p><p>The game continues on until the halftime buzzer rings loudly across the field.  Adora’s scored three of Bright Moon’s goals, the other two goals having been assisted by her at the last second.  The teams break from the field for their time to cool off and drink water, and another commercial plays on the jumbotrons.</p><p>“You think she’s hot.  Admit it.”</p><p>Catra groans and turns fully towards Scorpia.  “Will you drop it?  So fucking what?  Maybe she’s hot!  I don’t even know her!”</p><p>Scorpia hums.  “You haven’t taken her eyes off of her the entire game.  Look, I get it.  Yeah, she’s hot.  Like, objectively.  If I wasn’t with Perfuma, I’d be in your position.”  Catra rolls her eyes at the mention of Scorpia’s girlfriend.  “Oh, don’t roll your eyes.  Even Adora loves Perfuma.”</p><p>Catra crinkles her nose in confusion.  “How the fuck does she know Perfuma?”</p><p>“She’s in the Humanities seminar we all have together, which you would know if you actually showed up to our Humanities seminar.”</p><p>“I’ll have you know I showed up for syllabus week- wait.  Are you fucking joking?” she spits.  “Adora’s in our fucking seminar?  You’re fucking lying.”  Scorpia raises her hands defensively.</p><p>“No, no!  She sits, like, three rows in front of you in the lecture hall!  Next to me and Perfuma!  Wait- oh, my god.  You DO think she’s hot!” Scorpia exclaims loudly.  In a moment of divine timing, Adora zips by their area of the bleachers towards the water keg on the sidelines.  Catra growls and grabs Scorpia’s wrists.</p><p>“Dude, keep your fucking voice down!” she hisses, glancing back at Adora’s fading figure.  “Okay, fine!  Yes!  She’s hot!  Relax about it!  Fucking Christ!”</p><p>Scorpia smiles just as Kyle and Rogelio peek their heads around her shoulder.  “You guys talking about how hot Adora is?” Kyle asks, signing his words for Rogelio.  Catra glares at him until he cowers back around Rogelio.</p><p>Rogelio lets out a small gruff.  <em> “This dumbass still thinks he’s straight,” </em> he signs.  <em> “Like he wasn’t sending me naked pictures of him on Tuesday.” </em></p><p>Catra bites back a snicker as Scorpia huffs at him.  <em> “Let him be,” </em> she signs to him, <em> “We don’t all have our awakenings in high school.”  </em>Rogelio shrugs.</p><p>“Look, Wildcat,” Scorpia says, turning back to Catra.  “I’ll introduce you on Wednesday.  You’ll love her, and she’ll love you!  Adora is super nice, and funny, and very cool.  She’s, like, a gigantic teddy bear.”  She pauses.  “Who is also super shredded.  But, anyway.  I think you guys will hit it off.  You’re great.  She’s great.  It’s a win-win.”</p><p>Catra buries her head in her hands, letting out a frustrated groan.  “Yeah, if I don’t fuck it up.  Scorpia, since the day I fucking met you, you’ve been trying to set me up with girls.  Do you remember Vanessa?  Do you remember how that all went to hell?  She got drunk and told me she loved me on the first date.  Fuck, no.”  Scorpia nudges her with her shoulder, but Catra keeps her head buried in her hands.</p><p>“Hey, hey.  Come on, now.  Don’t be like that.  Be open to love, Catra.  You deserve it.  You know that.  Just let me introduce you to Adora, okay?”  A moment of beautiful silence, and then, “You can see how hot she is for yourself.”</p><p>Catra groans again, raising her head to look back out to the sidelines.  Her eyes wander over to the water stand, where Adora is currently pouring a cup of water over her face.  The water dribbles past her lips, down her neck, over her collarbones, and disappears into the neckline of her jersey.  Catra sighs.</p><p>“Fuck.  Okay.  Okay!  Fine.  You can introduce me.  But that’s <em> it, </em> Scorp’,” she warns, dropping her voice.  She presses a single, manicured finger into Scorpia’s chest.  “Do <em> not </em> play matchmaker.  I’ll fucking kill you.”</p><p>Scorpia chuckles nervously and pushes Catra’s hand gently away from her.  “Okay.  Sheesh.  I won’t.  But just promise to try, okay?”  Catra nods, huffing, and rests her chin in her hand, propped up on her elbow.  </p><p>“Oh, by the way, do you know if the Dance Marathon fundraiser is g-”</p><p>“SCORPIA!”</p><p>The four of them turn their attention to the row down from them, and Catra weaves her eyes around the people sitting in the first row.  She doesn’t see anyone looking back at them.</p><p>“SCORPIA!  DOWN HERE!”</p><p>Adora lifts herself on to the rail of the bleachers, and her forearms strain with the effort.  Veins pop out from her arms, and her deltoids flex harshly.  Strands from her ponytail are sticking to her forehead and temples with sweat, but her smile is bright and warm.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“WHAT’S UP, ADORA?” Scorpia calls back.  “YOU GUYS ARE KILLING IT!”</p><p>“THANK YOU!” Adora calls back over the commotion of the front row.  Catra feels herself freeze, and though she tries to tell her body to move, to act natural, it doesn’t listen.  “HI, SCORPIA’S FRIENDS!”</p><p>“Oh, my god,” Kyle wheezes, “Adora Grayskull is talking to me.  HI, ADORA!  I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!” he screams to her, standing up to show off the <em> ‘13’ </em> of his- well, <em> her- </em> jersey.  Adora throws her head back and lets out a loud, beautiful laugh.</p><p>“HI, KYLE!” she calls back.  “WE HAD FRESHMAN SEMINAR TOGETHER!  WE’RE STILL FRIENDS!”  Kyle reaches into his pocket for his inhaler.  Rogelio rolls his eyes.</p><p>“UH, WHEN IS THE HUMANITIES ASSIGNMENT DUE?” Adora yells at Scorpia, who laughs back at her.  “I… REALLY DON’T KNOW WHEN IT’S DUE.  SORRY.”</p><p>Catra can hear her accent more clearly now, smooth and charming.  She flips her ‘r’s slightly and her ‘t’s are soft and dental.  Her heart flutters, and Catra hates herself for it.</p><p>She hates herself more, however, when her body decides to finally act faster than her brain.</p><p>“IT’S DUE NEXT FRIDAY!” she shouts suddenly, surprising herself.  Scorpia turns to her, shell-shocked, Kyle puffs on his inhaler again, and Rogelio shoots her a small thumbs-up.  “ON BLACKBOARD!  IT’S REALLY FUCKING EASY!”</p><p>“THIS IS CATRA!” Scorpia shouts.  She ignores Catra when she swats at her arm, hard.  “SHE’S IN OUR CLASS, TOO!”</p><p>“OH!  I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU BEFORE!  THANK YOU!”  Adora grins, turning her body- <em> still holding herself up with just her gigantic fucking arms </em>- to look up at Catra.</p><p>“I, UH, DON’T REALLY GO.  BUT, UH, I’LL BE THERE ON WEDNESDAY.”  Adora smiles wider at Catra, and her dimples deepen.  She nods, and Scorpia lets out a small squeal next to her.</p><p>“You talked to Adora!” Scorpia whispers excitedly to her.  “... You did the assignment early?  I… you’re coming to class?”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Catra hisses back.  Adora continues to smile up at them.</p><p>“I’LL SEE YOU GUYS ON WEDNESDAY TH-”</p><p>“ADORA!  WHAT THE FUCK!?”</p><p>Catra turns her head to see Glimmer running up towards Adora, her brows furrowed.  Adora rolls her eyes and turns her head to look down at Glimmer when she finally approaches.</p><p>“We’re live on national television!  The break is about to end!  What are you doing?”  By some miracle, the row in front of them has quieted down to the point where Catra can hear them speaking without having to yell at the top of their lungs.</p><p>“I was asking about homework!”  Adora lifts a hand to gesture at where Catra, Scorpia, and the boys are sitting.  Catra averts her eyes in order to prevent herself from staring at Adora again, who is now just holding herself up with one arm.  “You know I can’t fail that class!  I have no clue what’s happening in that seminar!”</p><p>“You’ll be fine.  Now, come on!” Adora looks at the group apologetically before she drops down from the railing. </p><p>“BYE!” she shouts, and then, she’s gone from view.</p><p>Catra didn’t realize how high the distance was- when Adora lets go, she can only see the top of her ponytail.  <em> Jesus Christ. </em></p><p>The buzzer signaling for half-time’s end rings out across the stadium, and the players take their stances on the field.  Noticeably, Adora is absent from Bright Moon’s formation.</p><p><em> “LET’S GO, FLIP-THROW!” </em> the stadium starts to chant.  <em> “LET’S GO, FLIP-THROW!” </em></p><p><em> “And now, Grayskull is taking her place on the side of the field for her signature flip-throw!” </em> the announcer’s voice booms.  Catra cranes her neck to look at Scorpia, who, at this point, she knows has a much more acute knowledge of sports than originally thought.</p><p>“Fuck’s that?”</p><p>“Shut up and look!”  Scorpia points to the other end of the field, where Adora is rocking on her heels at the sideline of the field.  The jumbotron closest to their area blows up footage of Adora, and Catra can see a look of pure focus on her face.  Her brows are furrowed, and she’s breathing harshly.  The soccer ball in her hands rolls between her palms.</p><p>
  <em> “LET’S GO, FLIP-THROW!” </em>
</p><p>Adora takes dashes towards the field.  She lifts the ball up, and at the last second, she’s <em> front-flipping </em> over the ball when she touches it to the ground.  Her legs go over her head, and Catra’s mouth goes dry at the flexibility of Adora’s body.  Her legs hit the ground, and the ball swings up over her head, out of her hands, and launches into the sky.  The ball shoots upwards before rocketing back towards the ground, hitting the field with a loud thud.</p><p>The stadium goes insane.</p><p>Catra crosses her legs, a little too tightly, and watches Adora run back into the game, towards the ball that one of Bright Moon’s players has in her possession.  All it takes is a quick pass to Adora before she’s kicking the ball at nearly impossible speed into Erelandia’s goal.</p><p>
  <em> Motherfucker. </em>
</p><p>“You do this thing where you say things out loud and don’t realize it,” Scorpia chuckles to her side.  Catra cringes.  “I’m telling you, man.  I’d Google her.  That girl is really something.”</p><p>“I’m not going to fucking Google her, Scorpia.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Catra absolutely fucking Googles her.</p><p>She’s only just gotten back from the stadium, but she makes a beeline for her room in the Kappa Delta house and shuts the door.  One of her sisters tries to talk to her, but Catra glides past her in an attempt to end the conversation before it starts.  She throws her bag down onto her bed before walking to her desk and throwing open her laptop.</p><p>The Google engine stares back at her.  <em> ‘Adora Grayskull’.</em></p><p>She hits <em> ‘Search’.</em></p><p><em> ‘</em><em>About 15,400,000 results (0.55 seconds)’.  </em>Catra’s eyes go wide.</p><p>Her eyes roam around multiple news article headlines, most of them from today.  <em> ‘She-Ra Leads Warriors to Another Victory’.</em> <em>‘Grayskull Continues to Make and Break History’.</em></p><p>One article catches her eye, however.  <em> ‘From Tragedy to Triumph: The Story of the Best College Athlete in America’.</em></p><p>The article opens in another tab, and Catra silently berates herself for Googling someone like some sort of amateur stalker.  A video loads on the top of the screen, and, in order to save herself the trouble of reading, she clicks on it.</p><p><em> “It might be the most incredible story in modern sports,” </em> the sports commentator starts. <em>  “But Adora Grayskull, at just twenty-one years old, has broken records and set her own, not just for the soccer world, but for collegiate sports in its entirety.  In a rare one-on-one interview, Adora tells us about her life, her loss, and her legacy as one of the greatest soccer players in college history.” </em></p><p>The video cuts to a picture of a beautiful seaside town, and the bottom text of the video reads, ‘ETERNIA, SPAIN’. </p><p>
  <em> “Adora and her twin brother, Adam, were born in a hospital at an Amercain embassy in Spain.  She grew up in the heart of Eternia, Spain, just outside of Valencia.  Her father, Randor, taught her and her brother how to play soccer the second they could walk.” </em>
</p><p><em> “It’s called fútbol,” </em> Adora laughs when the video cuts to her.  Her hair is up, and she’s wearing a simple yellow hoodie.  Catra rolls her eyes at the poof of her hair.  <em> “I never really understood why Americans call it ‘soccer’.  You literally play the game with your feet and a ball.  But my papi taught Adam and I how to play fútbol when we were very little.  I was… a lot better at it than Adam was,” </em> she chuckles.  “<em>Mami used to play with us, too.  It was, like, this family thing that we did.  Me and Adam versus Mami and Papi.  Adam and I would always win.” </em></p><p><em> “Do you miss your parents?” </em> the interviewer asks.  Catra feels her body still as she watches Adora’s face fall, just slightly, on camera.  She shrugs softly and smiles sadly.</p><p>
  <em> “What kind of a question is that?  Of course I do.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Adora’s parents were INTERPOL agents stationed in Eternia,” </em> the voice over continues.  “<em>When Adora and her brother were just nine years old, their parents were killed on the job.” </em></p><p><em> Fuck.  </em> Catra shifts slightly in her chair. <em>  Both? </em></p><p>
  <em> “Fútbol was a big part of my life growing up, I guess.  I played in a league when I was in primary school, but it’s more than just a sport to me, you know?  It means family to me.  When I play, it’s for my parents and my brother.”  </em>
</p><p>Adora clears her throat, looking visibly uncomfortable.  <em>“It’s a way to honor them and the country I grew up in.  I kept playing when Adam and I came to the United States, and I never wanted to stop.  I didn’t speak the language, and I didn’t do well in school.  But I played with the school leagues, and it was the only thing that I was good at.  It was the only thing that made sense to me.”  </em> She laughs again, more genuine this time. <em>   “And then, it got me here.” </em></p><p><em> “Mami was born in the United States-,” </em> she continues, looking more serious, <em> “- but she moved to España when she was very little.  She had dual citizenship here and back home.  And, I was born at an embassy.  So, when, um…” </em> she pauses momentarily, and Catra can hear the interviewer shift off-camera.  <em>“So, when Mami and Papi died, I guess we had citizenship here, too.  A friend of theirs took us to the closest American embassy, and they came and took us to the United States.” </em></p><p>
  <em> The commentator’s voice rings out, “Adora and her brother were separated by a federal judge upon arrival into the country.  Unable to afford legal counsel, with no family in the country, and at just nine years old, Adora represented herself and her brother in a federal court of law, where she pleaded for them to remain together after the judge questioned the legitimacy of their birth-right citizenship.” </em>
</p><p>The camera cuts back to Adora, whose face is contorted in pain.  “<em>That was… the worst day of my life,”</em> she says slowly.  <em>“Adam and I went to different orphanages.  I went to Athens, and Adam went to Chicago.  We were separated for</em> <em>five years, until we both were about to start, uh, high school.  That’s when Mara found us and adopted us both.”</em></p><p><em> “Mara Hope was a close family friend of the Grayskulls, and a fellow INTERPOL agent, now retired.  In fact, she was the one who took Adora and her brother to the American embassy when their parents died.”  </em>Catra lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.</p><p><em> “She took really good care of us,” </em> Adora says, smiling. <em>  “She’s like the older sister we never had, but always wanted.  And it was nice, too, to live with someone who was patient with our English and didn’t punish us for speaking Spanish.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Mara pushed Adora to continue playing soccer and began to personally coach her, having been a professional player before pursuing a career at INTERPOL.  After rising to national fame as a high school player for her record-breaking plays and statistics, Adora was thrown D1 scholarships to Yale, Harvard, Duke, Penn State, Auburn, the University of Florida, Stanford, UCLA, Georgia Tech, and Bright Moon.  We know where she ended up.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Bright Moon is closest to Mara, and Adam works nearby at a dojo.  ‘Skeletor Karate’.  Everyone should go there,” </em> Adora chuckles, winking at the camera. <em>   “I’m sure he’s going to call me and yell at me when he watches this.” </em></p><p><em> “He did,” </em>the commentator’s voice says.  Catra snorts.</p><p><em> “What was it like, living in a group home for so many years?  In a brand new country, not knowing the language, such a short time after the passing of your parents?” </em> the interviewer asks, softly.  Adora looks down and rubs the back of her neck, averting her eyes.</p><p>She clears her throat, loudly. <em>  “I don’t think that has anything to do with fútbol.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Just curious, is all.  But, speaking of sports, let’s talk about your nickname, She-Ra.” </em>
</p><p>Adora laughs prettily and finally looks back into the camera.  <em>“I guess She-Ra is some American, uh, how do you say… folklore?  Some kind of goddess, I suppose.  I was in the playoff round for the high school championship series when I was, uh, a sophomore, and the announcer man called me a ‘She-Ra’.  I Googled her later, and I guess I look like her.  But, I don’t really see it.  Anyway, I went for the flip-throw, and the whole crowd started chanting, ‘She-Ra’.  It was all over ESPN the next morning after we won, and I guess the name just stuck.  I don’t know,” </em>she shrugs.  <em>“I don’t really care about it.  I just like to play.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “And we love to watch you play.  You have made history at such a young age, Adora.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And we’re excited to continue watching you as you go into your senior year at BMU, captaining the team for the third year in a row.  You shooting for your fourth MVP title?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Uh,” </em> Adora says sheepishly, her cheeks turning into a beautiful blush color.  <em>“I don’t really shoot for those things.  I just like to play.  I like to win with my team.  It’s been very humbling to win them, though.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Well, you’ve racked up quite the number of awards in your college career, Adora!  It’s gonna be great leading into your professional career.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Yeah,” </em> Adora smiles, but it’s tight-lipped and stiff. <em>  “Of course.” </em></p><p><em> “Thank you so much for being here, Adora.  Mind if I get a picture?” </em>the interviewer asks.  Adora chuckles and stands, beckoning her over.  The video fades out.</p><p>Catra sighs and closes her laptop.  <em> Fucking hell.  She’s really been through some shit. </em></p><p>Catra reaches into her pocket to look at the missed messages on her phone.  Three from <em> ‘Sharon’.  </em>Catra unlocks her phone and marks the messages from her mother as <em> ‘read’ </em>without reading them.  She opens Scorpia’s contact and types out a text.</p><p>
  <em> ‘save me a spot in the seminar wednesday pls’.  </em>
</p><p>She hits send.  Less than a second later, her phone buzzes.</p><p><b> <em>Lobster Bitch</em> </b> <em> : ‘Of course Wildcat!! :DDDD’ </em></p><p>Catra groans and throws her phone onto her bed before standing up and flopping down onto her mattress.  She slaps a hand to her forehead.  <em> This is so fucking creepy.  Like, super fucking creepy. </em></p><p>Catra huffs and blows a curl out of her face.  She is above letting a simple, small infatuation overtake her mind.  A stupid schoolgirl crush.  A dumb fascination with someone with the prettiest smile she’s ever seen.  The brightest blue eyes.  The nicest arms.</p><p>Catra turns on her side.  <em> Damnit.  </em></p><p>Her phone is back in her hand before she can stop herself, and then she’s clicking on <em> ‘Images’ </em> under a Google search of <em> ‘Adora Grayskull’.</em></p><p>She falls asleep with her phone in her hand.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Okay, so.  It might be a little bad.</p><p>Adora was the first thing that Catra thought about when she woke up that Tuesday, much to her chagrin.  The promise of maybe, <em> maybe, </em>being able to sit next to her tomorrow both exhilarates her and pisses her off.  </p><p>
  <em> Why is she so infatuated with her?  What about her is so special?  Why the fuck does she care? </em>
</p><p>Catra takes another sip of her iced coffee as she slams her hand on her steering wheel, growling under her breath at campus traffic.  The lethargy of campus drivers angers her more than her tardiness to class.  She’s nearly fifteen minutes late to her engineering lab, but truly, she can’t bring herself to care.</p><p><em> ‘You will take over the company,’ </em> her mother said to her the night she committed to Bright Moon.  <em> ‘You’re my only child, unfortunately.  And if you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it right.  Nothing less than a perfect GPA, girl.  This degree will be the only thing that matters to you.  You know well enough that there will be consequences.’ </em></p><p>Catra clenches her jaw at the thought of the unread text messages from her mother in her phone.  She knows that they’re about her desire to ditch engineering and go to law school, and she knows that the text messages waiting for her are not things she wants to read.  The <em> ‘KD’ </em> decal on her back windshield stares back at her from the rear-view mirror.  Perks of being a legacy, she guesses.  When she rushed, nobody questioned her when Kappa Delta gave her a bid.  They all knew of her mother well enough.</p><p>Her phone buzzes.  </p><p><b> <em>Geek Bitch</em> </b> <em> : ‘Catra, where are you?  You’re about fifteen minutes late to the lab.  You’ve missed mandatory attendance.’   </em></p><p>Entrapta is observant, as always.  Catra throws her phone onto the passenger’s seat.  She rolls down her window and props her elbow against it, leaning back to hold her chin in her hand.  The cool breeze of a Tuesday afternoon in Etheria hits her face, and she sighs in both exasperation and in pleasure.  Out of all the cities she could have moved to, at least Etheria has some nice weather every now and again.</p><p>When traffic starts moving again, the road takes her by the old soccer field, which the school has now let the team use as a practice field.  What’s different today, however, is that the team is out practicing.  Catra clenches her Starbucks drink in her hand just a bit righter, and the plastic crinkles.</p><p>Of course, Adora is the closest person to the street.</p><p>She’s clad in a sports bra and Nike Pros, riding up just perfectly on strong, tan thighs.  The curve of her ass makes Catra feel uncomfortably hot, and she gulps down another sip of her iced coffee.  Adora’s in the middle of putting her hair back into a ponytail, and Catra’s car is close enough to see her biceps flexing.  Catra looks away quickly.</p><p>
  <em> Don’t be fucking weird. </em>
</p><p>After agonizing seconds of clenching and unclenching her jaw, Catra finally lowers her Ray Bans and lets herself look.</p><p>She can’t take her eyes off of her.  She’s tall, she’s tan, and she’s breathtakingly gorgeous.  Her hair is now pulled away from her face to reveal the sharp cut of her jaw, bright blue eyes, and a stunningly white smile.  Catra notices the slope of her hip bones, the bulk of her arms, and the hard, defined planes of her stomach.</p><p>What she doesn’t notice, however, is that her Audi has veered off of the road and is cruising towards a tree.</p><p>The sudden impact brings her back to her sudden, jarring reality.</p><p>Her head hits the top of the steering wheel, and she yells out a “FUCK!” before she finally realizes what happened.</p><p>
  <em> She crashed her fucking Audi. </em>
</p><p>Blood swims to Catra’s head as she lifts her head from the steering wheel, taking in the damage.  The airbags didn’t go off, which is a good sign.  The crash wasn’t hard enough to cause any physical damage to herself, Catra decides.  Still, her head hurts like a motherfucker.  She looks down at her hands to see that she’s broken a nail, too.</p><p>“God’s punishing me for being gay,” she mutters, before slamming her door open.</p><p>“HEY!”</p><p>Catra turns to see Adora running towards her, ponytail bouncing and skin glistening with sweat.  <em> No.  No.  No.   </em></p><p>She stops in front of Catra and furrows her brow as she looks her up and down, frantically.  “Are you okay?” she asks, rushed.  She reaches out to grab Catra by the shoulders and steps closer, searching her face for damage.  Catra prays to whatever God is out there that Adora can’t see the way she blushes.</p><p>“How the fuck did you get over here so fast?” she blurts out.  Adora smiles sheepishly.</p><p>“I, um.  I jumped the fence.  I saw what happened.”</p><p>
  <em> Of course she fucking saw what happened. </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m good.”  Catra steps away from Adora’s grasp and walks around to the front of her car, assessing the damage.  “God fucking damnit.  It doesn’t look bad, I guess.  Just some body damage.  It should still be fine to drive.”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adora asks again, stepping forward.  Catra wills herself not to look down at Adora’s exposed abdomen or toned thighs.  “I mean, you... crashed your car.  You shouldn’t be driving a crashed car.”  She pauses. </p><p>“Wait, you’re Catra from Humanities class!” she exclaims, smiling at her.  The smile drops immediately through, and Adora puts on a serious face.  “You crashed your car, Catra from Humanities class.  That sucks.”</p><p>Catra barks out a laugh.  “Uh, yeah.  Yeah, it sure does fucking suck.”  Her arms tighten around her abdomen in an attempt to push down the urge to be defensive.</p><p>Adora reaches a hand out to her.  “I don’t think we’ve met properly, though.  I’m Adora.”  She smiles warmly down at her.</p><p>Catra reaches out to grab her hand, and immediately, she notices the warmth of Adora’s grip, the strength, and the tenderness of it.  "... Catra."</p><p>Adora clears her throat, suddenly, and looks back at the car.  “How about this?” she says, walking over towards the front of the car.  “I’ll call one of those, um.  Car helper things.”</p><p>“... A tow truck?”</p><p>Adora snaps her fingers.  “That’s the one.  They can come and get your car to get it fixed at the body shop up the road.  And I’ll drive you there.”</p><p>Catra turns back around, sharply, to look up at Adora.  “Uh, you really don’t need to do that.  Go do your soccer thing, or whatever.  It’s fine.  I can do it myself.  Don’t sweat it.”</p><p>“They won’t care if I leave.  I mean,” Adora drawls, taking a step closer to Catra.  “I think I should.  This is kind of my fault.” </p><p>When Catra raises an eyebrow at her, incredulous, Adora grins shyly.  “You were staring at me when you crashed.”  Catra doesn’t miss the redness that crawls up Adora’s neck.</p><p>Still, she blanches.  “Uh.”<em>   Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  </em>“... Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay!” Adora says quickly, putting her hands up.  “Sorry, I just, uh.  Well.  You had your window down.”  She clears her throat.  “I… I was looking at you, too.”</p><p>This time, both of Catra’s eyebrows shoot up.</p><p>
  <em> Maybe there is a God. </em>
</p><p>“So,” Adora continues, her smile widening, “Let me drive you?  I’ll take you to get coffee while you wait for your car.”</p><p><em> Oh</em>.  </p><p>She resists the urge to tell Adora that she has an iced coffee waiting for her in her console.  Catra takes a second to collect herself and forces her body and her brain to slow down, both high on adrenaline and fear.  She breathes in.  Adora’s going to drive her to get coffee and call her a tow truck.  It’s really, truly, genuinely, not that big of a deal.  It’s just an act of kindness.  Catra exhales.  </p><p>“Yeah,” she breathes.  “Yeah, okay.  Sure.”</p><p>Adora smiles at her, bright and real.  Catra smiles back, shaky and shy.</p><p>
  <em> Huh. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. starbucks & sunburn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THEYRE GAY YOUR HONOR REEEEEEEEEEE</p><p>follow me on tumblr: yangaf.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This looks fucking vile.”</p><p>“Shut up and drink it.  You’ll love it.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>“You strike me as the kind of person with a sweet tooth.”</p><p>“You said you were buying me coffee.”</p><p>“... It has coffee in it.”</p><p>Catra scoffs, but she lets herself laugh softly at Adora, anyway.  She lowers her head to the sugar-fused, caramel drizzled frappuccino on the table in front of her.  She makes it a point to avoid Adora’s wide eyes and excited gaze as she takes her first sip.</p><p>“Okay,” Catra sighs, nodding slowly.  “It’s not bad.”</p><p>“You love it,” Adora teases, raising her own drink- the same one- to her lips.  Adora’s not wrong- it’s probably the most unhealthy and most delicious thing she’s ever tasted.</p><p>The Starbucks down the street from the body shop is quiet, only a few other people scattered across the lobby.  It smells strongly of coffee and cleaning products, and the sun shines brightly through the window they’re seated at.  Adora sits across from Catra, looking utterly content with the straw from her disgrace of a coffee beverage rolling around in her mouth.</p><p>The sun gives Adora’s tan skin a warm glow, making it look absolutely radiant in the high afternoon light.  A shadow casts itself across Adora’s high cheekbones, but her eyes remain radiant and a clear, clear blue.  She smiles at Catra, suddenly, wiggling her eyebrows, as she catches her raising her own straw to her mouth.</p><p>“You <em> do </em> love it,” she laughs.  Catra rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Relax,” she huffs.  “It’s not a complete mouth abortion.  Can’t athletes, like, not drink this kind of shit, anyway?”</p><p>“You curse a lot,” Adora notes, smiling, and Catra has the decency to feel a small pang of guilt in her chest. </p><p>Adora continues.  “We’re not really supposed to, no.  We’re on a really strict diet.  All I usually have are pre-workout drinks, G2 packets, post-workout drinks, and protein bars.  But, like, all the time.  Also, whatever they give us in the Champion’s Lounge.  The first time I had Starbucks was when I was fifteen, and you can’t look at me and tell me that this isn’t the best thing you’ve ever had.”</p><p>Catra raises her eyebrows.  If poor, sweet, clueless Adora’s going to splurge on Starbucks, Catra feels inclined to make sure that she’s splurging on the right things.  “You ever tried an iced vanilla latte?”</p><p>Adora shakes her head vigorously.  “No, but it’s on my list!”  She takes her phone out of her pocket, opens her Notes app, and shoves her phone at Catra.  ‘<em>Qué Beber en Starbucks’ </em> the title says, and below it are about ten different drinks listed.  Catra cringes at the potential calorie count included in <em> ‘S'mores Frappuccino’.  </em>She ignores a notification that pops up at the top of Adora’s phone, some Spanish word- <em> ‘Terapeuta’ </em>- followed by an 8 A.M time listing.</p><p>“You poor, poor thing,” Catra tuts, squinting her eyes at the list.  She fixes her gaze up on Adora’s confused, yet incredibly cute, face.  “I’m going to culture you.  Starbucks is the only thing I eat, but you have to get the right things.” </p><p>Feeling uncharacteristically brazen, she stands suddenly and points an acrylic nail at Adora.  “You have room for another drink?  It’s on me.”</p><p>Adora blinks prettily up at her.  “Always.  But, you don’t have to pay-”</p><p>“You called for the tow truck and paid for the first drinks.  Let it happen, She-Ra.”</p><p>Adora smiles softly up at Catra.  She turns, quickly, away from Adora and over towards the barista’s counter, debit card in hand.  She feels a wild blush push itself up her neck, her ears, her cheeks.  She stutters through the order and leans on the counter, waiting for their drinks to be made. </p><p>The car ride to the body shop once the tow truck came was not at all awkward, like Catra was dreading it would be.  Adora led her to her old Subaru, opened the car door for her under the guise, <em> ‘You’re my guest!  It’s polite!’, </em> and threw on a song.  Adora began to lament that she had absolutely no clue what was happening in their Humanities class, and Catra swallowed her pride to poke a joke at her own expense, saying that because she never bothered to show up, she was probably in the same boat.  The conversation took off from there.  Natural, easy, and genuine.</p><p>All things considered, Catra thinks, they might have hit it off.  Maybe.  <em> Perhaps. </em></p><p>With only just a first impression, Catra saw that Adora was kind, genuine, and actually might have a decent sense of humor.  She gave Catra an unnerving sense of ease- the feeling that she is genuine in her attentiveness to Catra’s words and actions.  Something she was, unfortunately, not quite familiar with, barring the overbearing protectiveness that Scorpia showers her in.  </p><p>They had followed the tow truck to the old body shop, climbed out of the car, and trudged inside.</p><p>“It’s a black Audi S6.  2016,” Catra had hissed at the frail boy behind the intake counter.  “It has a Kappa Delta sticker on the back of it.  I want it fixed today.”</p><p>“Um, ma’am, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to-”</p><p>“<em>Today</em>.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” he gulped, turning to type frantically into his computer.  Catra pushed down the smile she felt creeping up when she heard Adora snort with laughter behind her.</p><p>“Can I get your name?”</p><p>“Catrina Weaver.   With a ‘C’.”</p><p>“<em>Catrina</em>,” Adora had repeated, her accent silky over the letters.  Catra’s stomach had fluttered painfully at the soft ‘t’ and the flip of the ‘r’ in her name.  She made her name sound so… beautiful.  So natural.  “I like that.  It’s very pretty.”</p><p>“Don’t get too used to calling me that,” Catra had muttered back.  Adora had simply raised her hands in a joking defense and chuckled.</p><p>“Your car will be ready in a few hours.”</p><p>“A few?”</p><p>“Three.  Three hours.  Uh, ma’am.”  Catra let out a <em> ‘hmph’ </em> at the boy before she turned to walk out of the door, only stopping briefly to make sure that  Adora was following her.</p><p>When they returned to Adora’s car, she asked Catra where she wanted to get coffee while they waited.  After Catra’s insistence that they didn’t really care, Adora had made a straight beeline for the closest Starbucks.  Catra was timidly concerned that one or more traffic laws had been violated as she gripped tightly on the Jesus handle.</p><p>And now, here they are.</p><p>Catra grabs the now-finished drinks from the pick-up counter and saunters back over to Adora, doing her best not to let the nerves she feels pooling in the pit of her stomach from showing themselves.  Adora tilts her head and smiles as Catra approaches the table.  “Iced vanilla latte,” Catra announces, putting a cup in front of Adora.  “It’s crack.”</p><p>“‘Crack’?”  Catra blinks.</p><p>“Uh, like, the drug.  The… opioid, or whatever?  Crack?”</p><p>“Ah,” Adora drawls out, nodding.  “I’m not sure what an opioid is.”  She leans forward to grab the straw and takes a long, slow slip.  Catra laughs when Adora’s eyes light up.</p><p>“This is so good!” she exclaims, leaning down to take another sip.  “It tastes like actual coffee!”</p><p>“Do you really not know what a fucking opioid is?” Catra continues to laugh, raising her straw to her lips.  Adora shakes her head, looking apologetic.</p><p>“My English isn’t the most perfect.  I’m still working out the… fuck, what’s the word?  Kinks.”  Adora groans, slumping back in her chair.  “See?  I understand memes.  I get the slang.  I’m on TikTok a lot.  I barely knew the basics of English before I came here, but, there’s just…” She waves her hand in the air.  “A lot.  It’s the words that nobody really uses a lot that I have trouble with.  Like, the little things.”</p><p>Catra nods, taking another sip of her latte.  “English is fucking weird,” she agrees.</p><p>Adora nods back at her.  “Right?  Interviews are hard for me to do.  That’s why I try not to do a lot of them.”</p><p>“Because of the English?”</p><p>Adora shrugs, looking down at her drink.  “Mostly, yes.”</p><p>Catra takes a small breath in.  “I, uh,” she starts, letting her voice trail off briefly.  She clears her throat.  “I saw your ESPN interview.  The one-on-one.  I thought you were really well spoken.”</p><p>Adora looks up, and Catra’s heart clenches at the small flit of sadness in her eyes.  “Oh.  Thank you.  That wasn’t a very fun interview.  They were really nosy.”  She laughs, then, setting her shoulders back.  Catra can’t tell if it’s a friendly or defensive gesture, but she nods at Adora.</p><p>“No, I agree,” she says, leaning forward just a bit.  “But, I mean, they were right when they said you were, you know, good.  At soccer.  Or, uh, football.  Whatever.”  She lets her sentence die off on its own, hoping that Adora doesn’t pick up on the embarrassment in her tone.</p><p>Adora, however, leans forward across the table and smiles.  “Thank you.  Did you enjoy the game yesterday?”  She raises a dark eyebrow at Catra, and a lopsided smile curls her lips upward, exposing a small dimple.</p><p>Unexpectedly, it throws her.</p><p>When Catra sees a challenge like this, she is usually the first to rise to it.  Either out of spite, out of proving herself, or out of pure boredom.  This challenge specifically- <em> Adora- </em> presents its own problems.</p><p>Catra doesn’t know Adora well enough to figure out whether or not she’s just being conversational or making a subtle attempt to flirt at her.  It’s not that she’s not attracted to Adora- she is.  Very much so.  Her accent, thick and <em> incredibly </em> sexy, doesn’t do much to help. The problem, however, is just that.  She feels just the slightest bit of intimidation at Adora, the way she carries herself with confidence, the way she speaks with ease.</p><p>Her mother’s words, muddled in her mind through a history of repetition, scream loudly at Catra. <em>She’s playing with you.  Toying with you. She doesn’t mean it.  There’s something else that she wants.  You wouldn’t deserve that kind of affection. That kind of attention. What have you ever done to deserve it? </em></p><p>Maybe she’s right.  Maybe there’s some truth to that.  What has Catra done to deserve the kind of love that she craves, but is so afraid of? </p><p>Why was she never good enough to have her own mother’s?</p><p>Catra is very well aware of her own defense mechanisms- sometimes acted upon voluntarily, sometimes not.  She has a premonition of what people want from her, why people speak to her, why they treat her the way that they do.  Intimidation, fear, want, or- in Scorpia and Entrapta’s case, at least- genuine yet overwhelming attempts at a real friendship.  It’s enough to send Catra running into the deepest corners of her mind, throwing up her walls at anyone who is bold enough to even approach them.  How she survived her mother, she will never know.  It might have something to do with hurting other people before they hurt her, or at the very least, learning how to show that she’s affected by it.</p><p>She is violently and painfully aware of her flaws, the ease at which she lashes out at people, and the unintended venom of her words.  If it keeps her safe, however, she sees no reason to let that go.</p><p>Before she can fall into that hole, though, Scorpia’s voice cuts through her train of thought.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Be open to love, Catra.  You deserve it.’ </em>
</p><p>Catra, against every alarm bell going off in her mind, against every instinct she has, against the will of every defense mechanism in her brain, decides to take a leap of faith.</p><p>“Yes, I did,” Catra says, her voice low, pouring every ounce of confidence that she has into her tone.  She leans forward across the table and lets her forearm touch Adora’s.  Adora’s smirk widens, just barely, along with her eyes.  “I enjoyed the game a lot.  I liked watching you play the most, though.”</p><p>Adora leans back, slowly, and throws an arm over the back of her chair.  She tilts her head to the side and keeps her gaze fixed on Catra’s eyes as she raises her chin slightly, looking cocky.  “Yeah?” she breathes.</p><p>Catra wills her heart to slow its drumming beat as she takes in Adora’s expression.</p><p>Catra wants to say more than one thing. <em>  ‘I think you’re really hot.  You’re stunning.  You make me feel comfortable.  You make me laugh without feeling like I have to fake it.  Why are you being nice to me?  What do you want from me?’ </em></p><p>What comes out instead is, sarcastically, “Yes, Adora.  I think you’re a very good soccer player.”  She rolls her eyes playfully at her, cocking an eyebrow.</p><p>Adora huffs out a laugh, low and genuine.  “It’s called <em> fútbol, </em>but thanks.”  She laughs harder when Catra raises her middle finger at her and rolls her eyes again.</p><p>“What?” Adora whines, leaning forward again.  “I literally don’t get it.  The sport is with a ball and your foot.  <em> Fútbol.  </em> That’s as simple as it gets.  American <em> football- </em>” she says the word in a horribly exaggerated American accent, “- is none of those things.  What the hell kind of ball is that?  Where’s the foot action?”  She takes a sip of her iced latte.  “It’s discrimination against immigrants, is what it is.”</p><p>Catra sputters so hard that she almost chokes on her drink.  Biting back laughter, she chokes, “What?” just a bit too loudly.</p><p>Adora shrugs.  “I didn’t stutter.”  She takes a sip, feigning aloofness.</p><p>Catra snorts.  “Okay, God of soccer.  If you hate it so much, then just quit.”  At this, Adora freezes.</p><p>She lowers her drink slowly and looks out of the window, and Catra’s breath catches at the way the bright rays of sunshine reflect off of Adora’s eyes, sad but wide.  “I can’t.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“I love <em> fútbol, </em> ” she starts slowly, purposefully.  “But… I don’t like everything else that comes with it.”<br/><br/>Catra sets her drink down.  “What do you mean?”</p><p>Adora sighs and turns her head to look at Catra.  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m not.  Really.  But… I don’t know.”  She turns her head away from Catra again, who waves a hand in front of her face to re-focus her attention.</p><p>“Uh, hello?  Yeah, man, you kind of opened the door for that one, so.  Don’t be shy.”</p><p>With any other person, Scorpia sometimes included, Catra would find herself not giving a second thought to another person’s woes.  She has her own to deal with, and they are heavy enough as is. </p><p>Adora, though, is different.  Different in a way that Catra can’t put her finger on.  Different in a way that is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and she doesn’t know if she wants to find out why.  Still, Catra finds herself genuinely caring about what Adora has to say, how she’s felt in the hour they’ve been in Starbucks, about the slight sunburn on her neck and cheeks from practicing in the glaring sun.  Now, though, after having an actual conversation with Adora, she can rule out just a simple physical attraction to her.</p><p>She thinks she cares.  It terrifies her.</p><p>Adora’s sigh breaks Catra out of her dark reverie.  “Okay.  <em> Fútbol, </em> I love.  I love playing, I love practicing, I love my team, and I love the matches.  I love winning.  I love the sport.  It meant everything to me even before I came here, and I know that I’m good at it.  But,” she clears her throat, visibly uncomfortable, “I hate the attention that comes with it.”</p><p>Catra lets out a hum.  “You mean, all of the media shit?”</p><p>“Yeah.  The articles.  The interviews.  I… the pressure.  Everything about me is so… public.  But, well.  I like the attention inside of the match, I suppose.  I like that people want us to win, I like when people cheer for me.  It’s fun, you know?  Feels nice to be… appreciated.  But, people across the country give me so much attention <em> outside </em> of the match, and it’s overwhelming.  I didn’t ask for that, you know?  I just wanted to play <em> fútbol.” </em> Adora laughs, mirthlessly, and looks back out of the window.  “And now, people are wearing my jersey and asking for autographs and pictures.  It’s way too much.  I feel like if I make a mistake, either in or out of the match, or don’t perform well enough, I’ll let down a lot of people that I don’t even know.  That makes the sport a lot less fun.”</p><p>“It’s not fair to put that on yourself, you know?” Catra says softly, and she surprises herself at the sincerity in her voice.  “You’re not, like, some superhero, dude.  You can just play soccer because you like it.  You shouldn’t have to worry about all of that shit.  Maybe you can, I don’t know, play for a less famous team when you graduate?”</p><p>Adora clenches her jaw.  “I don’t want to play professional soccer after I graduate.”</p><p>Catra’s eyebrows fly into her hairline.  She wasn’t expecting that.  “Shit,” she whispers, “Are you serious?  You’re literally the best player in the country!”</p><p>Adora nods and sighs.  “I’m not stupid.  I know that.  But, I... I don’t know.  This is already so much right now, and it’s only going to get worse if I join a professional club.  I don’t think I could handle that.  I want to do something with my life that actually helps people, like social work.”</p><p>“Social work?”</p><p>“With kids,” Adora says.  “Kids who have to grow up the way that I did.”</p><p>“... And what way was that?”</p><p>Adora clenches her jaw again and brings her hand to the side of her jaw, her fingers ghosting over the small, dual scars.  “Not great.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>It’s an involuntary action, Catra can tell.  She had swallowed harshly when she caught sight of a small scattering of tiny, circular scars near Adora’s elbow as she gripped her steering wheel on the car ride over.  Now, Catra realizes that she might have an unnerving idea of what they are.</p><p>“But,” Adora continues, bringing Catra’s attention out of her own head and back to Adora, “I don’t really think Coach Razz or Mara will let me do that.  I’ve had this path laid out for me since I played in high school, and it would be unfair to all of the people who helped me if I just… didn’t follow it.”  Adora pauses and slinks back in her chair.  “That got dark really fast.  I’m sorry.  I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”</p><p>Catra knows when to back off.  She tries another angle, mildly afraid of letting Adora become too sullen in her sudden change of mood.  </p><p>She doesn’t care about <em> why </em> she cares anymore.  She swallows, and the back of her throat stings from its sudden dryness.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck it. </em>
</p><p>“I think,” she starts, “I know how that feels.”  Adora raises an eyebrow at her and nods for her to continue.</p><p>“My mom is, um.  Well.”  Catra coughs.  “She’s a piece of shit.”  Adora’s dark eyebrows furrow, large forearms crossing in front of her as she leans against the table.</p><p>“She’s just, uh.  Never really cared about me, I guess?” Catra continues, looking away from Adora’s concerned eyes.  “She wants me to take over her company and she makes sure I know that the only reason I’m doing it is because I’m her only child.  She, uh, was really shitty to me when I was growing up.  Lots of, uh, emotional manipulation.  You know.  The whole she-bang.”  Catra mentally cringes at her choice of words, but Adora’s expression doesn’t change.  She decides to continue.</p><p>“She made me major in engineering so I would be ready to take over her fucking evil weapons manufacturing company.”  Catra leans back in her chair and looks down at her drink.  “But, I want to be a prosecutor.”  She clears her throat, stiffly.  “I don’t think I’ve told anyone that, either, but, yeah.  I want to go to law school.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>That’s not the question Catra was expecting.</p><p>“Well- um,” Catra stutters, trying to find the right words.  But Adora doesn’t smirk at her when she falters, doesn’t take a dig at her, doesn’t snicker.  She stares at her, eyes wide and curious, and Catra starts to make up words as she goes, instead.</p><p>“I guess… It just seems right.  You know?  I grew up in a really shitty town, with a really shitty mom, and I saw a lot of fucked up things.  Not really just with her company, anyway.  Prosecutors have most of the power when it comes to plea deals, they can actually give out, like real justice.  They can pursue charges against people who actually deserve them.  They can do good things.  A lot of shitty lawyers give out unfair plea deals or overcharge people for small crimes and still get them convicted.  It happened a lot where I grew up, and a lot of kids I knew couldn’t afford defense attorneys.  I think I want to be a prosecutor because I feel like I could do more harm than good.  Maybe give someone a nudge to get their life back on track.”</p><p>Adora’s eyes light up.  “I think you would be a great lawyer!” she smiles, excited.  Catra scoffs.</p><p>“Sure.  I don’t even know how to start fucking studying for the LSAT.”</p><p>“You can do it.  You <em> should </em> do it.  You’d be amazing,” Adora says, earnestly.  “You’re… really intimidating.  And convincing.  And you’re smart.  You almost made the kid from the body shop cry <em> and </em> you got what you wanted.”</p><p>Catra leans forward, slightly out of disbelief, slightly out of intrigue.  “... You’re serious?”</p><p>It’s funny, really.  An hour and a half in a coffee shop with a complete stranger, and she’s shown  Catra more support than her mother ever has in her twenty-one years of living.  She’s shared with her a desire, a thought of defiance that keeps her up at night, and she’s been met with support and conviction.  It’s been a dream of hers, one that she was too scared to pursue out of fear of her mother’s retaliation and her lack of self-confidence.  One part of Adora’s words, though, stick out at her.</p><p>“... You think I’m smart?” Catra asks, deadpan- she’s known her for less than half of a day.  Adora bobs her head up and down.</p><p>“You’re an engineering major, so you must be smart,” she says around the straw of her drink.  “You also did the Humanities assignment early.”</p><p>Catra laughs freely, now, loud and more heartily than she has in months.  Adora smiles brightly across from her, and the air around the pair of them suddenly lifts.</p><p>“You’re right,” Catra breathes through her laughter.  “That got really fucking deep, really fucking fast.  Jesus.”</p><p>Adora is kind, she’s sharp, and she’s <em> cheeky, </em>Catra notes.</p><p>“I guess... not in a bad way, though.”</p><p>“No,” Adora agrees, raising her cup to bump it against Catra’s.  “Not in a bad way.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The body shop calls her an hour later, letting her know that her car is ready to be picked up.  Catra had almost ignored the call entirely in favor of watching Adora happily inhale her fourth drink and tell her a story behind a broken nose she suffered during practice one year.  At the end, she answered it, because she figured it would be easier to pay in cash today than let her mother see the debit card charge later.</p><p>“You know,” Adora drawls after Catra snatches her keys out of the cashier’s hand, “I’m kind of glad that you crashed your car.”</p><p>Catra snorts and hits the <em> ‘Unlock’ </em> button on her keys.  “You have an incredible way with words.  Your mind is a fucking enigma, dude.”</p><p>“I know, right?” Adora smiles, leaning her shoulder against Catra’s car.  “But, seriously.  As shitty as it is, I’m… glad I got to buy you coffee today.”</p><p>Catra snorts and turns to look up at Adora.  “And then, I bought you three.”</p><p>Adora gapes at her.  “You said you wanted to ‘culture me’!”</p><p>“Yes, I did, but I did <em> not </em> say that I wanted to let you run my bank account dry.  What if I need gas and I can’t get any because you spent all of my money at Starbucks?  What if I get stranded in the middle of the road and die of starvation?  That won’t be my fault.”   She pokes a nail at Adora’s broad chest.  “That’ll be yours, asshole.”</p><p>“Of course,” Adora nods, feigning seriousness.  “Of course.  How shitty of me.  Wow.  I didn’t even think about that.  You’re right.”</p><p>Catra lets out a soft laugh in spite of the nerves eating away at her stomach.  Adora smiles at her warmly and looks down.</p><p>“It’s kind of ridiculous, though.”</p><p>“What?  The fact that you drank fifteen hundred calories worth of sugar and didn’t say a damn thing about it?”</p><p>“No,” Adora says, tilting her head.  “The fact that the scared little boy from the body shop got your phone number before I did.”</p><p>Something inside of Catra clenches.  “That was slick, Grayskull,” Catra manages to say without tripping over her words.  “In my defense, though, he needed it to call me when my car was fixed.”  She takes an obvious glance at the hood of her car, looking brand new.  “I didn’t see <em> you </em> on your hands and knees trying to repair the damage.”</p><p>“In <em> my </em> defense,” Adora starts, leaning down slightly, “I wasn’t driving your car.  Also, <em> you </em> were looking at <em> me </em>when you crashed.”</p><p>Catra feels heat travel up her neck.  “<em>You </em> were looking <em> back</em>.”</p><p>“Just because I could tell what a terrible driver you are.  I practically saw you hit that tree before it happened.”</p><p>“Wow,” Catra huffs, putting a hand to her forehead dramatically.  “And you didn’t think to warn me?  What the fuck, Adora?”</p><p>Adora smirks.  “I didn’t have your phone number.”</p><p>Catra’s jaw falls open.  “A full three-fucking-sixty.  Maybe <em> you </em> should be a lawyer.”</p><p>“No,” Adora says, stepping closer.  “I’d rather just send you TikToks.”  She sticks an open palm out at her and beckons large, slim fingers towards her.  “<em>Dame tu teléfono</em>.  You’re not escaping this.”</p><p>Catra silently thanks her high school Spanish II teacher for being so obnoxious that she actually remembered some of what she was taught.  She huffs, unlocks her phone, and shoves it at Adora.  “Okay, dumbass.  Don’t send me shitty ones.  Show me how good your sense of humor really is.”</p><p>Adora smirks, and when she’s finished typing, hands Catra’s phone back to her.  <em> ‘Adora’,</em> followed by the car emoji and the explosion emoji, stares up at her.  Catra scoffs.</p><p>“The next time you take a ball to the face, you’re getting the soccer ball emoji and the hospital emoji.”</p><p>Adora shrugs and laughs.  “Does that mean you’re going to come to more games?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“There’s this thing called a television.  You do know that you’re, like, ESPN’s golden child, right?  They probably play a livestream of you sleeping for free.”</p><p>Adora’s nose crinkles.  “You’re telling me you’d watch me sleep?”</p><p>“Go,” Catra snaps, fighting the heat that’s making its way to her cheeks, “Fuck outta here.  You’re no longer welcome here.  Goodbye.”</p><p>The words come out harsher than she intends, and for that, Catra feels a pang of guilt.  But Adora just laughs and raises her hands as she begins to take a few steps back.  “Bye, Catra from Humanities class!” she calls before turning and stepping into her car.</p><p>Catra bites the inside of her cheek as she watches the engine start, the car back up, and pull out of the parking lot.  She steps into her own car, but even after Adora’s car is out of sight, she can’t bring herself to start the engine.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Catra, at the very least, was expecting a TikTok or two.  At most, she was expecting another offer to take her coffee, that would inevitably lead to nowhere, and she would never speak to Adora again.</p><p>A month later, she could not have expected that she and Adora would <em> genuinely </em> talk.  Every single day.  Constantly.</p><p>It started with her texting Adora a simple <em> ‘hey, Adora’ </em> when she got back to the Kappa Delta house, about an hour after their coffee… whatever it was.  She was mildly shocked when Adora replied back with a TikTok of a roach eating fries in a girl’s car as she screamed, ‘<em>Girly is eating Wendy’s fries!  Is that good, queenie?’</em></p><p>It had made her laugh, <em> outloud</em>, and it was so sudden that one of her sisters in the lounge looked up at her, confused.  Catra had simply stuck her middle finger up at her and replied.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> so you DO have a sense of humor </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Adora:</em> </b> <em> Dark tik tok is the only reason i can speak fluent english now </em></p><p> </p><p>That night had been a constant streak of TikToks sent back and forth to each other, each more disturbing and funny than the last.  It’s a side of Adora that Catra had not seen when they were at Starbucks, something a bit more personal than how they had acted towards each other during the day.  Curious, Catra had opened Adora’s profile to see if she had posted any of her own.  Perhaps, she hopes, a few workout videos.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>@adooruh</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Head empty no thoughts </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If this account gets found I'm deporting myself</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She only had 27 followers, and her account was private.  It was clear that Adora’s profile was not meant to be seen, especially with the public eye watching her every move.  That told Catra that Adora had shared something with her that only a handful of other people had seen, had been chosen to see.  Had been <em> trusted </em> to see.</p><p>Adora’s humor, in fact, was quite dark.</p><p>The first video on her account was of her laying in bed, the hood of her hoodie up.  The audio behind it was bass-boosted to the point where Catra couldn’t make out the song if she tried.  The letter <em> ‘D’ </em> floated over Adora’s head.  She turned to the side, and when the angle changed, the letter was replaced with <em> ‘-ead parents’</em>.  Adora had pulled a face and turned her head to the left, and the words were replaced with <em> ‘-1 scholarships’.</em>  Her head turned to the side again, and <em> ‘-epression and anxiety’ </em> flashed on the screen.</p><p>Catra scrolled down.</p><p><em> “GOD!” </em> Adora screamed, accent loud and thick.  <em> “I’M COMING UP!” </em>   She laid down, and her head made a loud noise as it slammed against the floor.  A cut-out picture of her body began to rise up to the ceiling as ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas began to play.  The caption was, <em> “Me on day 8 of being locked in an attic”. </em></p><p>Catra scrolled down again.</p><p>A sharp pain starts in Catra’s chest and spreads numbness through her veins.  Many of Adora’s TikToks joked about some horrible form of abuse, either physical or mental, that she had endured.  Some of her captions were, <em> “Me after I got another cigarette put out on me”</em>, or <em> “Sometimes Lexapro is a delicious first meal of the day”</em>.</p><p>Catra favorited one that she saw of Adora looking absolutely exuberant, smiling in the sunshine, speaking rapid Spanish to a man off-camera.  The caption was, <em> “The cashier at Circle K makes me miss home sometimes”</em>.</p><p>It was strange to see that part of Adora- that broken but moving version of her.  Her humor, Catra could appreciate, is dark, just like hers.  Though, they have similar yet different things to joke about.  But her first impression of Adora that day had been of a tall, kind, fearless woman with exuberant confidence and a smile that could stop traffic.</p><p>Catra recalled the word on the notification she saw on Adora’s phone earlier that day.  Google Translate tells her that <em> ‘terapeuta’ </em>means either therapist or therapy.  Catra found herself strangely comforted at the notion that Adora was, in fact, speaking to someone about the things that she either went through or is currently going through.  The memory of seeing what she knows now to be cigarette bruns on Adora’s elbow stirred an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.</p><p>A month ago, she thought of Adora very differently.</p><p>A month later, Adora is- Catra considers secretly- one of her closest friends.  She doesn’t tell Scorpia or Entrapta because she knows that Scorpia will cry at the news.  They talk every day, leaving each other a never-ending string of text messages of jokes and memes and playful teasing.  Adora quickly got into the habit of Facetiming Catra whenever she sent her something particularly funny, begging her to watch the video with tears in her eyes.  Most days, they meet at the library after their classes end to work on their assignments, either for Humanities or different ones.  Some days, they lay out on the green in the main quad and talk about mundane things- things that Catra suddenly finds herself caring for.  One day, Catra brings a flask, and instead of berating her for it, Adora swipes it from her hands and takes a long swig.</p><p>Adora is sharp, Catra learns very quickly.  She is organized, detailed, and somewhat of a perfectionist.  She color-codes her hand notes and has different folders for her notes on Google Docs, writing them all in Spanish so she can understand the content better.  She sets herself a constant litany of alarms and reminders to keep herself on schedule, reminding her to start an assignment or submit something or go somewhere.  She has both a Google Calendar and a planner that she is <em> incredibly </em> proud of.  One day at the library, Adora flips through every page for her, showing Catra the neat organization of bullet points and colored writing.  Adora credits the way she organizes herself to having been so behind in American middle school as she learned English, herself being the only person to help her climb to academic success.  Catra credits it to just being <em> Adora, </em> tenacious and driven.</p><p>They make a habit of walking together to their Humanities seminar every Wednesday, now, stopping at the Starbucks on campus for a quick pick-me-up.  The Wednesday after Catra had crashed her car, Adora had texted her to wait outside of the lecture hall so they could sit with Scorpia and Perfuma.  With butterflies in her stomach, Catra had waited for her.</p><p>Scorpia’s eyes almost blew out of her head as she watched Adora and Catra take seats in her row, right next to each other. </p><p>“You… know each other now?” she had asked, clearly bewildered, and Catra did her best to hide her glare.  Adora had nodded as Perfuma giggled next to Scorpia.</p><p>“Yeah.  I made her crash her car.”</p><p>Before Catra could snark at her, however, the lecture began.  A minute in, her phone had buzzed.</p><p> </p><p><b>Adora</b> : <em> I mean it’s true</em></p><p> </p><p>They quickly caught in the habit of texting each other jokes and memes from their laptops during their class.  Scorpia is always annoyed that Catra’s not paying attention- <em> “If you’re going to show up, at least pay attention!” </em>- but Catra does not care at all.  She cares, however, about the laugh that Adora hides at whatever text Catra sends her as their professor drones on.  The smirk that she sends her when Catra has to stifle her own laughter.  She cares about the bruises she sees sometimes on Adora’s knees from practice, the compression wraps on her ankles, the way her hair falls into her face when they take notes, the cut of her jawline as she chews on gum.  The bulge of her arms through her hoodie.  The width of her shoulders and the way that she crosses her leg over her knee when she’s particularly bored.  The bounce of her leg when she’s focused.  The freckles on her collarbones.</p><p>It’s not something that Catra is entirely proud of.  She hides these feelings, as hard as she possibly can, because now, Adora actually <em> means </em> something to her.  She doesn’t want to lose that.</p><p>Adora is a good friend to her.  She’s a good listener, patient, and funny.  Mostly, though, she’s kind.  Kind in a way that makes Catra both scared and yearning for more, a part of her that she’s pushed down for almost twenty years rearing its ugly head.  A craving for validation, acceptance, and, unfortunately, touch.  Adora is rarely touchy with Catra the way Scorpia is- she’ll give her a nudge on the knee or bump her on the arm, but it sends Catra into a dizzying spiral of wanting <em> more</em>.  Adora gives her a sense of distraction from whatever is going on in her own head- not because she helps her through it, but because Adora pulls Catra’s focus from herself to <em> her</em>.</p><p>Adora makes an effort to know Catra in a way that Scorpia and Entrapta did differently.  Adora lets Catra come to her- she lets her text her first, and is in no way overbearing.  Adora asks about her day and how she’s feeling, but doesn’t get mad when she doesn’t feel comfortable elaborating.  Adora laughs at her snark and shrugs at her pessimism.</p><p>Adora lets Catra just be <em> herself </em> without trying to change her.  Adora doesn’t try to break down her walls, but Catra finds herself wanting to bring them down for her anyway.</p><p>The buzzing of her phone brings Catra out of her thoughts.</p><p> </p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em>Wildcat!!!! Our joint date function is tonight!!! Kappa Delta and Alpha Gam baby!! Gonna be so fun! Did you sign up to go?? :O</em></p><p>
  <em> love u scorp but i’d rather eat glass </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em> :( But you never go to any!!! And now our chapters are doing one TOGETHER!!!! Youre literally on exec- u have to come!! It would be so fun to go!!! </em></p><p>
  <em> the second season of the politician just dropped bro </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it won’t drunk scream at me or throw up in my louis bag </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em> But consider… if I never did that… we wouldn’t have been friends!! :D </em></p><p>
  <em> u got me there </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em> ANYWHO! U should pls pls pls come!!! There are still sign up spots left- it's not too late! </em></p><p> </p><p>Catra has half a mind to not respond, until she reads:</p><p> </p><p><b>Lobster Bitch</b> : <em> Also you should totally bring Adora as your date! &lt;3 </em></p><p>
  <em> bitch HUH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> omfg NO </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are you smoking fucking CRACK </em>
</p><p>
  <em> like is it MALIGNANT? </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em> But why?!?!?!? :(((( I see the way you look a</em><em>t each other in class!  You guys are hanging out a lot more! </em><em>You’ve gotten super close. I’m kinda jealous.  But yeah Perfuma </em><em>and I think you def should :D She’ll TOTALLY say yes</em></p><p>
  <em> ah yes the no brain cell lesbians have spoken </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em> Wildcat, just think about it!! Let yourself </em><em>have fun for once!!! You deserve it. &lt;3</em></p><p> </p><p>“Scorpia bombarding you again?”</p><p>Catra looks up from her phone at Adora, who’s sitting across from her at their table in the library’s coffee shop.  She’s chewing on the end of her pen, staring intently at her laptop.  “You’ve got that look on your face.”</p><p>Catra scoffs.  “What fucking look?  You’re not even looking at me, idiot.”</p><p>Adora smiles and finally meets her eyes.  “I can just tell.”  Catra feels her gently kick her ankle under the table, and she wiggles in her chair a bit.  “How’s your assignment?”</p><p>“Well,” Catra sighs, “This fucking frat boy doesn’t know how to use Adobe Acrobat, so I’m going to finish the project on my own.”</p><p>Adora nods.  “And then, try to get him expelled?”</p><p>“I didn’t know you could fucking read minds.”</p><p>Adora throws her head back and cackles loudly, drawing attention from the table next to them.  Catra didn’t think her joke was that funny, honestly, but she blushes at Adora’s reaction. </p><p>“I can’t read minds,” Adora says when she’s calmed down.  “If I did, I’d know what’s going on in your head that’s giving you that look on your face.”</p><p>“Dude, what <em> look?</em>” Catra hisses, starting to feel defensive.  Adora leans forward and looks at her, looks right <em> through </em> her.</p><p>“The one you get when something’s bothering you,” she says softly.  “Is everything okay?”</p><p>Catra swallows harshly.  <em> It’s now or never. </em></p><p>“Uh, my sorority and Scorpia’s sorority are having a joint date function.  Tonight.  The theme is fucking ‘Princess Prom’.  She really wants me to go, but I don’t think I want to.  They’re really not all that.  Tailgate parties are better.”  Catra slides back in her chair and crosses her arms, looking at Adora for a reaction.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve been to one of those before!  I went with my freshman roommate when her boyfriend bailed on her,” Adora sighs.  “It kind of sucked.  She was boring as fuck.”</p><p>Catra hums and puts her chin in her hand.  “Yeah.  Depends on the person you go with.” </p><p>Her heart is racing now.  She wants to ask Adora- she knows that they’ll have fun together.  Adora makes her feel comfortable and seen and relaxed.  The thought of dancing with Adora is one that she wouldn’t mind seeing through to, and the thought of taking shots with Adora is <em> definitely </em> something she wants to do.  Scorpia’s encouragement rings through her mind. </p><p>
  <em> Just ask her.  It won’t hurt.  It can’t hurt.  It shouldn’t hurt.  </em>
</p><p>There’s silence between them.  And then-</p><p>“Do, uh,” Catra falters, but she doesn’t miss the way Adora perks up.  “... Do you wanna go?  With me?  To my date function?  It might not be terrible.”  Catra pauses to smirk at Adora in an attempt to reel her nerves back in.  “I mean, you’re not <em> that </em> boring.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Catra’s mildly taken aback at the speed at which Adora responds.  She’s barely ended her sentence before Adora breathes out her answer, eyes wide with excitement.  Adora’s expression and enthusiasm, though, puts her slightly at ease.  She breathes out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding.  “Oh.  Shit.  Okay.  Cool.  I’ll text you your ticket and the rules.”</p><p>“We can drink, right?  God, I haven’t had a drink in so long,” Adora whines, still looking excited.  Catra snickers.</p><p>“Yes, dummy.  The function’s at Bar Salineas.”</p><p>“No shit!  One of our defenders is the bar manager there!”</p><p>“Then we should have no problem getting free shots, is what I’m hearing.”</p><p>Adora giggles cutely.  “I’ll make it happen.  What do I wear?  Wait, just come over and help me pick something out.  What time’s the date function?”</p><p>Catra’s mouth goes dry at the prospect of going into Adora’s room and watching her try on clothes.  “Um.  Eight.”</p><p>Adora looks at the time on her phone.  “Okay.  It’s five right now.  Let’s go.”  Adora stands, puts her laptop in her bag, and cocks her head at Catra.  “You coming?”</p><p>Catra shakes off the remaining nerves and shoves her laptop into her backpack.  “You’re such an idiot.  We have plenty of time.”</p><p>“What about make-up and stuff?”</p><p>“You’ve never worn make-up a day in your damn life.  I’ll make you look a little less ugly, though.”</p><p>As they’re walking back to Adora’s car, Catra pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens her Messages app.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> tell ur exec to mark me and adora down for tn </em>
</p><p><b>Lobster Bitch:</b> <em>:DDDDD YAAAAAYYYYYY OMG OMG OMG</em></p><p>
  <em> not a PEEP bitch </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Next to her, Adora smiles.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. concealer & concealing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adora and catra get ready for the date function, catra's oblivious, and glimmer and bow finally make their appearances</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My God These Bitches Gay! Good For Them! Good For Them. i'll edit any typos in the morning bc its 4:48 am rn xoxo</p><p>follow me on tumblr: yangaf.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive to Adora’s apartment is uneventful.</p><p>They make a quick stop at the Kappa Delta house so Catra can run inside and grab her outfit, her styling gel, and her make-up kit.  Adora runs her beat-down Civic right through a stoplight, hits a curb, and forgets to put her hazards on when Catra exits the car to go inside.</p><p>Uneventful.</p><p>They arrive as the evening sun rolls around, setting fire to the trees and buildings surrounding the soccer stadium.  The complex that Adora lives in is just across the street from the stadium- something that Catra knows to be both a blessing and an exhausting reminder for her.  The fall air is brisk, just cool enough to make Catra want a jacket, but warm enough to make her feel a semblance of comfort.  Adora locks her car and leads her up the staircase to her apartment.  Catra’s been in Adora’s apartment a handful of times, only when Adora has to stop and grab whatever she missed for class before heading to campus.  She knows that Adora lives with one of her teammates and a theatre major through her incessant complaining that, though she loves the both of them, they drive her just a bit crazy. </p><p>“Are your roommates home?” Catra asks, mildly curious.  She’d rather not have people running in and out of the living room- or, God forbid, <em>Adora’s</em> <em>room</em>- while she helps her pick out an outfit.  Helps her put on make-up.  Standing incredibly close to her face.  Catra grips the strap of her bag a bit tighter.</p><p>“Don’t know,” Adora mutters as she tries to get her key fob to turn green.  “Don’t care.  They’ll just make fun of me for doing something that’s not…” she huffs and jiggles the fob more vigorously against the door, “... ‘nerdy’.”</p><p>Catra raises an eyebrow and hip-checks Adora out of the way, taking the key fob from her hands.  “Okay, nerd-ass.  Gimme.”  She clicks the key against the metal detector, and the light immediately turns green.  Adora groans next to her.</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“Whatever, nerd.”</p><p>“<em>Diablesa.</em>”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound too nice.”</p><p>“It’s not.”</p><p>Adora pushes the door open and lets Catra slide past her.  The apartment is dim, colorful fairy lights and succulents scattered across shelves and walls.  Two large bean bags sit adjacently from the couch, and in front of them, a coffee table holds up numerous picture frames and trinkets.  The fridge is decorated with pictures and sticky notes, a large calendar stuck to the freezer by a neon yellow magnet.  <em> ‘PRACTICE’ </em> is scribbled in pink for most days, along with <em> ‘REHEARSAL’ </em> and <em> ‘THERAPY’ </em> adorning the few open spaces on the rest of the week’s squares.  There’s lit incense on the counter, and the stick has only just burnt through the tip.  </p><p>Catra notes, silently, that someone’s home.</p><p>She’s never met Adora’s roommates- she doesn’t even know their names.  She talks quite a bit about her other friends, though- some boy named Bow and, <em> unfortunately </em> , Glimmer Moon.  She’ll show Catra memes that they send her in their group chat, named <em> ‘Best Friends Squad!!!!!’ </em> , and every time, Catra notices that their sense of humor is much more light hearted than Adora’s tends to be.  Adora tells her about trips they’ve gone on together in her off-season, the ways that they help her through her problems but never quite <em> get </em> them, and she’s told the story about how the three of them met at orientation while ditching an orientation leader’s boring ghost story about three times.</p><p>What strikes Catra as interesting is that she has pieced together that Glimmer and Bow don’t really <em> get </em> Adora- at least, they don’t understand the depth of which Adora’s darker thoughts reside.  She doesn’t anticipate that it’s any of their wrongdoing, though.  Adora told her once, her eyes soft and sad, that it was nice to talk with her about these things, but Catra remembers furrowing her brow at her words, because the conversation was simply about general struggles to deal with stress.  Adora, in the short (but agonizingly long) month that she’s known her, has shown Catra a much deeper side to her than she had anticipated.  Trusted her with a small side of her that, frankly, scares her.  </p><p>Adora is not one to discuss her problems unless it’s forced out of her, Catra has learned, so they don’t talk about them unless Adora gives Catra the edge of a thread to pull gently on.  But it’s the smaller things that she’s learned to pick up on- the slight unfocus of Adora’s eyes when she gets lost in thought, the small twitch of her right shoulder every now and then at the mention of leaving for practice, the barely inaudible hitch of her breath when a fan of the school’s soccer team walks by Adora and calls her by her name, as if they know her.</p><p>Catra assumes that her roommates, most likely, don’t truly understand what Adora struggles with either, based on the way that <em> ‘PRACTICE’ </em> is written in bold letters- over, and over, and over again, jarringly bright in the middle of the space that is supposed to allow Adora to destress for once in her life.  </p><p>Internally, Catra scoffs.  <em> They must not know her as well as she does- Adora is meticulous about her personal schedule.  She lives with one of her teammates.  There’s no need to remind her to go to practice. </em></p><p>Adora throws her backpack on the kitchen counter, and Catra cringes when she hears her laptop hit the granite.  “You know where my room is,” Adora calls from behind her shoulder.  “I’m going to get a drink.  Do you want something?”</p><p>“Anything that’s not an energy drink.”</p><p>“Water,” Adora nods, opening the fridge.</p><p>Catra turns to walk down the hall to Adora’s room, throwing one last look back to the kitchen to make sure that Adora actually gets water.  She hears a door open from across the apartment.</p><p>“<em>Catrina</em>.”</p><p>Catra would know that fucking voice <em> anywhere.</em></p><p>She spins around on her heels and does not bother to hide the venom of her expression.  “<em>Gwenyth.</em>”</p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em> are <em> you </em> doing in my apartment?”</p><p>“<em>Your </em> apartment?”  Catra doesn’t bother to hide her incredulous tone.  “I- wait.  Glimmer Moon is your fucking <em> roommate</em>?” she yells, stepping out of the hall and back into the kitchen.  Adora pauses where she is, Brita filter in-hand.</p><p>“... Yes?  I told you I lived with one of my teammates.”</p><p>
  <em> Motherfucker. </em>
</p><p>“Glimmer?  <em> Glimmer Moon?</em>  Do you <em> hate </em> yourself?”</p><p>Adora blinks.  “A little bit.”  Catra makes a mental note to come back to that one.</p><p>“Adora,” Glimmer huffs, turning to face her.  “You know I love you.  You’re, like, a sister to me.  But her?” She jabs a finger at Catra.  “Her, I cannot fucking stand.  Why is she here?  Shoo.  Be gone with you.”</p><p>Adora sputters and sets the Brita filter down.  “How was I supposed to know that?!” she cries.  “What the hell, Glimmer?  You know I’m friends with Catra!  Don’t be an asshole!”</p><p>“Oh, I <em> know </em> you’re friends with Catra!” Glimmer drawls, settling her hands on her hips.  “You spend, like, <em> all </em> of your time with her.  We’ve noticed.  I dread the Snapchats you send me because I never know if it’s going to be a picture of <em> her </em> or not.”  Adora coughs loudly and turns to open the fridge.</p><p>A sudden rush of heat crawls through Catra’s veins.  “You take Snapchats of me?”</p><p>“ANYWAY-” Adora says, a bit too loudly, “-what the hell’s the problem, then?” she asks.  “I didn’t know you two hated each other.  I didn’t even know you two <em> knew </em> each other.”</p><p>“Adora,” Catra coos.  “Sweet, gigantic Adora.  Hate isn’t a strong enough word.”</p><p>“I’ll fucking say,” Glimmer spits.</p><p>The door across from the living room opens.  “Ladies, we’re all pre- oh, shit.  Catra’s here.”  A tall, dark-skinned boy steps out of his room, scratching the back of his head.  “Um.  Hi.”</p><p>“... Hi?”</p><p>“Bow,” he says, stepping forward and extending his hand.  Catra eyes it, apprehensive, before wrapping her hand as loosely as she can around his.</p><p>“... What kind of a name is ‘Bow’?”</p><p>“You literally have ‘cat’ in your name.  Don’t hate.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“Adora,” Bow says suddenly, craning his neck to look at her.  “Do you seriously not know the story of Bright Moon Rush Week Twenty-Eighteen?”</p><p>“The <em> what</em>?” Adora sighs, exasperated.  “No, I don’t.  Do I need to?  Can we all just be nice?”</p><p>“No,” Catra and Glimmer say at the same time.  Catra turns to glare at Glimmer, and she’s met with the same expression.</p><p>“Oh, my god.  Adora.  Glimmer’s never told you this?”</p><p>“Glimmer didn’t even tell me she hated Catra, who apparently, she knows I’m with all the time.”</p><p>“Yeah, hi,” Glimmer interjects.  “I’m Korean, not deaf.  Literally right fucking here.”</p><p>“Oh,” Catra drawls, snapping her fingers.  “I almost forgot to ask.  When the fuck did your short ass get put on the soccer team?”</p><p>Adora shoots her a look.  “Catra,” she warns softly.  For a split second, Catra almost regrets her words.</p><p>“Are you fucking SERIOUS?” Glimmer shouts, stomping towards Catra.  She leans up to glare into Catra’s unimpressed face.  “I have ALWAYS been on the fucking team.  I literally committed with a D1 fucking offer.  They only just started putting me in more.”</p><p>Catra looks Glimmer up and down, slowly.  “Yeah, tiny.  I can see why.”</p><p>Glimmer lets out a scream of frustration and turns to slam her hands on the counter.  “Get her out of here, Adora!  I’m serious.  I don’t want her here.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, too bad.  I’m here.  I’m getting Gigantor ready for a date function.”</p><p>Glimmer’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Who the hell’s taking you to a date function?”</p><p>Catra leans down to smirk in Glimmer’s shocked face, puffy with frustration.  “Me, princess,” she spits.</p><p>"Way to not be a complete nerd, Adora!" Bow chirps, throwing her two thumbs-up.  Adora face-palms.</p><p>“Oh, no," Glimmer groans.  "Fuck, no.  I know for a god damn fact that you haven’t been to a date function in almost three years.  Not since you put a fucking shrimp in my bra during Tri Delt’s Twenty-Eighteen St. Jude’s fundraiser.”</p><p>“Oh, my god.  You dumb fucking bitch.  That was a fucking accident!  You bumped into me and the shrimp fell in!  Let it the fuck go!”</p><p>“A <em> what?!” </em> Adora cries, her hands flying to her hair.  She looks at Catra.  “You did <em> what?</em>”</p><p>“I didn’t do shit!  It was an accident!”</p><p>“She pulled it right out of her bra on the stage during the final fundraiser count,” Bow says, looking above Adora’s head, his expression mildly reminiscent.  “It was just like that episode of <em> Victorious</em>.”</p><p>“Bow, you <em> know </em> I wasn’t here when they were airing that show.”  Adora turns to Glimmer, her eyes pleading.  “You hate her because of a shrimp?  Are you serious, Glimmer?”</p><p>“It wasn’t just the shrimp!” Glimmer yells, turning around once more to seethe at Catra.  Catra looks back down at her and lets out a long, exasperated exhale.  “You spilled a vodka cranberry all over my dress that night,” she starts, holding a hand up to tick down her fingers.  Catra groans.</p><p>“You’re really going to fucking-”</p><p>“You egged my car the night of junior prom-”</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, Catra sees Adora’s eyebrows raise.  She also sees Bow slide over to her and stand on his toes to whisper, not softly, into her ear.  Catra tunes out Glimmer’s babbling to focus her attention on Bow’s words.</p><p>“They met in elementary school,” he whispers loudly, and Adora’s eyes go even wider.  “They were friends, I guess, until they weren’t.  It all went to hell when Glimmer’s mom pulled out of some business deal that Catra’s mom wanted to do.  That’s when they started to hate each other.  I don’t really know the details.”</p><p>Catra realizes that she never bothered to mention to her that she’s known Glimmer since the third grade, when they met after Catra moved into the house next to hers in their small town.  Then again, Adora never bothered to mention to her that Glimmer’s her fucking <em> roommate</em>.</p><p>“Okay, wait,” Catra interrupts, throwing her hands up and knocking Glimmer off of her train of thought.  “Let’s not fucking forget.  You broke the window in my fucking room that year and then blamed it on me.  My mom beat my ass.  Who throws a fucking rock at a window?”</p><p>“A person who’s pissed that you cheated off of her math test and got us both suspended for a week!”</p><p>“Only because your mom told my mom that I wasn’t doing as well in school as you and she threatened to transfer me!”</p><p>“My mom was worried about you, Catra!”</p><p>“Yeah, well, <em> mine </em> wasn’t worried when she kicked me out of the house for a week!  I was fucking sixteen!  Some of us don’t have fantastic fucking mothers, Glimmer!”</p><p>Glimmer’s face falls suddenly, and she takes a sharp step back from Catra.  She watches, in mild confusion, as the light disappears from Glimmer’s eyes.  It strikes Catra as odd- in all of the years she and Glimmer have held their feud, she has never seen her shut down like this during the middle of a fight.</p><p>“Enough,” Adora interjects, suddenly, firmly.  Her eyebrows are furrowed, but her eyes are straight and intense.</p><p>Glimmer looks up at Adora, her eyes softening.  “Adora-”</p><p>“No, Glimmer,” Adora interrupts, stepping around the kitchen counter.  She crosses her arms, and Catra can tell that she’s genuinely mad by the bulge of the veins in her forearm.  “I said, that’s enough.  Clearly, you guys have been assholes to each other for years.  But, right now, I don’t care.  Whatever the hell has gone on to make you two hate each other can be discussed at a different time.  We have things to do.  You,” she snaps, pointing at Catra.  “My room.  <em> Now.</em>”</p><p>If this were any other circumstance, Adora’s words and tone of voice would have sent heat straight between Catra’s thighs.</p><p>“Adora-” Glimmer tries, but she’s met with Adora stepping forward to look down, <em> down </em> at her.</p><p>“Don’t, Glimmer.  We’ll talk about this later.  Please.  Don’t ruin this night for me.”  Her tone, now, is soft but firm.  Next to Catra, Bow lets out a low whistle.  </p><p>“Well!” he exhales, clapping his hands together.  “Holy shit.  I’m, uh, gonna go to rehearsal now.  Right now.  Bye.”  Bow grabs his half-zipped backpack from the couch and makes a dash for the door, letting it slam shut behind him.</p><p>The apartment falls silent.</p><p>Catra, not caring to be in the middle of the hot tension in the living room anymore, huffs and turns to walk into Adora’s room.  She flings the door open and shuts it with her foot once she steps in.  Her backpack falls at her side, and she flops face-first into Adora’s hard bed.  The comforter smells faintly of detergent, baby powder, and something so inexplicably <em> Adora</em>.  Enjoying the small moment of peace, Catra dares to bury her head into the comforter just a little more, before muffled speaking pulls her out of her slight daze.</p><p>Catra lifts her head slightly in an unabashed attempt to eavesdrop on Adora and Glimmer.  She makes out only a few words and phrases- <em> ‘know these people’</em>, <em> ‘controlling’</em>, <em> ‘happy’</em>, <em> ‘like I know her’</em>, <em> ‘careful’</em>.  Catra lifts her chin up higher when she catches Adora’s low voice saying <em> ‘for once’</em>.</p><p>So much for a fun night.</p><p>It’s not like Catra <em> meant </em> to piss Glimmer off- meant to piss <em> Adora </em> off.  But she’s had her years’ worth of putting up with Glimmer, her perfect, overbearing mother Angella, and Glimmer’s holier-than-thou attitude towards Catra.  She wasn’t expecting to be provoked the second Glimmer laid eyes on her, but if Catra had known that Glimmer was Adora’s roommate, she would have made plans to sneak Adora into her room at her sorority’s house instead.  She didn’t trust herself to not go on the defensive around people, or, even worse, the offensive.  Especially Glimmer, of all people, who knows too much about Catra’s childhood behavior and,  unfortunately, too little about her mother’s treatment of her.</p><p>A door from across the apartment slams shut- Glimmer’s door, Catra can only assume- and seconds later, Adora stomps through the doorway.</p><p>Catra sits up abruptly, trying to force an apology to rip from her throat, but all that comes out is, “Uh…  Adora?”  She swallows, trying to regain a semblance of control over herself.</p><p>Adora, though, doesn’t seem mad or upset anymore- just tired.  She waves a hand in Catra’s direction and truges over to her closet door.  “It’s fine,” she says, and Catra can hear the exhaustion seeping through her voice.  “Really.  Don’t worry about it.  I should have let them know I was having someone over.”  Adora pauses and turns towards Catra.  “Glimmer kind of started it.”</p><p>Catra nods slowly, unsure of herself.  Unsure of what Adora’s point is.  “Uh, I guess.  I… really wasn’t expecting to see her here.”</p><p>Adora shakes her head.  “It’s fine.  It’s over, now.  I don’t want this to ruin our night.  We only have two hours left to get ready.  Okay?”</p><p>When Adora looks Catra in the eye, she sees something pleading, silently asking to move on.  Catra doesn’t know why, but she complies.</p><p>“I, uh… Okay.  Sorry.  I... guess I was being kind of a bitch?”  The apology is half-assed and she knows it, but she speaks not only out of obligation to do so, but out of genuine guilt that she upset Adora.  That she let herself drag Adora, who’s been nothing but sweet and kind and gentle to her, into her mess of a history.</p><p>“... Glimmer’s mom died last year.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>“Angella died?” Catra breathes, and her heart drops.  </p><p>Angella had been nothing but kind to her growing up.  In some ways, Catra considered her a second mother for a large part of her adolescence.  She cooked Catra dinner when her own mother became too insufferable for her to stay in the house.  She helped both Catra and Glimmer with their homework in elementary school, and never raised her voice when Catra became too frustrated with her math problems.  She would bring candy for Catra when she came over to her own house to meet with her mother when they still did business.  Catra remembers, still, the warmth that she felt towards Angella.  The warmth that was strictly absent from her feelings towards her own mother.  Some fleeting semblance of actual concern, genuine care.  <em>Love</em>.</p><p>When Glimmer became hostile towards her after their mothers’ business deal fell through, Angella did the exact opposite.  She offered to let Catra sleep on their couch more times than she could even recall, even well after she and Glimmer had stopped being friends.  Before she had her own car, she would stop Catra at the bus stop when she picked Glimmer up and offer to drive her home.  She would text Catra every week until her senior year, asking how she was, if she needed anything, if she wanted to come for a hot meal and relax.  Catra would never take her up on any act of kindness that she offered, afraid of her mother’s retaliation.  Afraid of showing weakness.</p><p>She doesn’t know why Glimmer started to hate her after the failed business deal- she never asked, and, at this point in her life, she doesn’t care enough to.   Glimmer was kind enough to show Catra her truest colors before they started high school, and though her life at home quickly got worse, she supposes that it’s better to have bared it all alone than rely on someone she can’t trust.</p><p>The news of Angella’s death, however, shakes Catra to her very core.  She was a bleeding-hearted woman who has shown her nothing but genuine kindness, no matter how overwhelming it became as she got older.  She tries to keep her face neutral in front of Adora, praying to whatever God listens that she doesn’t notice her silent grief.  Thankfully, Adora continues.</p><p>Adora smiles and shakes her head, chuckling sadly.  “It’s not your fault.  You didn’t know.  But, I suppose you certainly didn’t help de-escalate the situation.  I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you apologize to anyone.”</p><p>Unknowingly, Adora’s hit a sore spot.  Catra tries not to let her face show it, but she can’t stop her body from bristling.  “What? I apologized to the kid I accidentally tripped at Panera last week.  You were literally there.”</p><p>Adora turns around again, but Catra doesn’t miss that she’s still smiling, if not just slightly.  “I know,” Adora says softly.   “But this one was different.”</p><p>Any response dies on Catra’s tongue when Adora lifts the hem of her shirt up.</p><p>Tan skin peeks out from underneath the hem of Adora’s shirt, and every inch that Adora pulls the fabric up her body, Catra sees faint white lines crawling up hard muscle.  Two small dimples sit just above the hem of Adora’s tight jeans, and Catra clenches her jaw.  </p><p>If she was driving right now, she would be fucked.</p><p>Every nerve in Catra’s entire body is set on fire, her mouth immediately dries, and her long nails dig into the comforter under her so harshly that she’s sure she’s torn the fabric.  Adora’s shirt is halfway up her torso when Catra decides to save herself.</p><p>“Um,” Catra says, quite loudly, and Adora turns to her- which is, honestly, the absolute opposite of what Catra wanted.  The harsh ‘V’ of Adora’s abdomen accentuates her perfectly sculpted abs- chiseled, hard, and staring right back at Catra.  She catches a glimpse of a small litany of scars just below Adora’s ribcage before quickly averts her eyes and stares at the mirror behind Adora, which is- <em> oh</em>.  Reflecting the dimples on Adora’s back.</p><p>Fantastic.</p><p>“Is something wrong?” Adora asks, her eyebrows furrowing.  Catra wants to scream at her, '<em>Yes, dumbass, I am so attracted to you that I literally cannot fucking breathe right now.  Put your shirt back on.  Take it all off.  Why am I feeling like this when five seconds ago I was wallowing in guilt?  What the hell do you make me feel?' </em></p><p>“Oh!” Adora says suddenly, her smile sheepish.  “Sorry.  I sometimes forget that not everyone is used to changing in a locker room.  I can…” she jerks a thumb at her bathroom door, and Catra has to dig her nail into the side of her finger to steel herself.</p><p>“No!  No,” Catra’s words come out jerky.  “Uh.  No.  You’re, uh, fine.  Sorry.  This is your room.”</p><p>Adora cocks her head.  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”</p><p>
  <em> It’s literally so late for that. </em>
</p><p>“Dude, relax.  I’m not.”</p><p>“You look uncomfortable.”</p><p>“Adora,” Catra growls, thankful that their banter brings back a sense of comfort to her.  Adora shrugs.  </p><p>“Okay.  How about we both change, then?  It’ll save us time to get ready, and you won’t have to be uncomfortable if we’re not looking at each other while we change.  I won’t look.”</p><p>Catra snorts.  “How is changing at the same time going to save us time?  We have, like, two hours until we need to be at the function.”</p><p>“Exactly.  If we change at the same time, that’ll save us maybe five minutes total, in case one of us forgets something on the way out and we need to come back to get it.  Also, the Uber might be a few minutes late.”</p><p>Catra can’t help but stare at Adora’s, who looks deadly serious about her meticulous time management.  “Five whole minutes?  I literally will never understand how your brain works, but, fine.  Whatever.”  Adora grins goofily at Catra and turns around to pull her shirt fully off of her body.</p><p>Catra gulps and bends down to pick up her bag, careful not to crease the folded dress-wear that she packed in a suit protector.  She slips the two-piece on easily and smoothes out any wrinkles.  The red suit is something she loves wearing- she loves the power it makes her feel, the sheer sex appeal it gives her.  Smirking, she slips on her kitten heels, thankful for the added five inches, considering the height of her… date.  She turns around, thinking that it’s been long enough for Adora to have changed.</p><p>“Do you like it?” Adora asks cheerfully, slipping her last sleeve over her strong bicep.</p><p>Every ounce of air is knocked out of Catra’s lungs in a single second.</p><p>The white, two piece suit fits Adora snug and perfectly, accented by the tight black bandeau around her chest.  A single gold necklace hangs around her neck, glittering vaguely in the shape of a heart.  A gold and black belt is tight around Adora’s waist, accentuating the toned muscles of her abdomen that’s exposed between the belt and the bottom of her bandeau.  Her blonde hair is down, curling slightly around her shoulders, and her messy bangs fall slightly into her face.</p><p>
  <em> Jesus Christ. </em>
</p><p>“What?  Is there something on my face?”</p><p>Catra almost collapses of embarrassment at the realization that she said that out loud.  “No!” she yelps.  She clears her throat, wondering when the room became uncomfortably stuffy.  “Nope.  Thought I was going to have to help you pick something out, but.  Lookin’, uh.  Lookin’ good.”</p><p>Adora smiles endearingly at Catra, and her heart flutters wildly in her chest.  “Thank you.  You, um, you look beautiful.”  Adora clears her throat, suddenly, and turns to her closet to rummage around her shoe rack.</p><p>Catra tries to silence the loud thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.  Well.  The suit served its purpose.</p><p>Adora’s phone rings, suddenly, and Catra cringes at her ringtone.  “‘<em>Hips Don’t Lie’? </em>  Seriously?”</p><p>Adora shrugs.  “It’s his favorite song.  I’ll never understand him.”  She grabs her phone from her dresser and answers the Facetime. <em>  “</em><em>¿Qué tal, pendejo?” </em></p><p><em> “Adora!” </em> Adam’s voice rings out, low and loud.  Adora turns her body so that Catra is included in the shot, smiling goofily at her camera.  Catra wiggles her fingers boredly at Adora’s phone, but genuinely, she always looks forward to Adam’s Facetime calls when she’s with Adora.  Adora’s entire demeanor lights up whenever her twin calls, and she finds the rapid-fire Spanish speaking more than attractive.</p><p><em> “Catra!” </em> Adam exclaims.  <em> “It’s been a second!  Are you keeping her out of trouble?” </em></p><p>Catra chuckles as Adora sticks her middle finger up at the screen.  “Dude, you and I both know that nobody can control Adora’s ‘act first, think later’ behavior.  If anything, I’m barely just keeping her alive.”</p><p>Adam cackles as Adora turns to pout cutely at Catra.  She winks at her, cocky and unabashedly, and Adora raises an eyebrow at her.  It’s a challenge- one that Catra doesn’t think she can handle accepting the way she wants to.</p><p><em> Does Adora like her or not?  </em>Catra pushes down that thought, once again.</p><p>Adam begins speaking quickly to Adora, who wastes no time jumping into the conversation.  Catra can barely keep up with the two of them- her high-school Spanish II skills aren’t cut out for the complexity of two native speakers.  She picks at the black polish on her acrylics as she catches the words <em> ‘linda’ </em> and <em> ‘partido de fútbol’</em>.  Adora’s drilled into her head enough times that <em> ‘fútbol’ </em> means soccer, but the other word is one she doesn’t know.  A few moments later, she hears <em> ‘prom’ </em> and <em> ‘princesa’</em>.  Catra perks, slightly.</p><p>They’re talking about the date function. <em>  Mrs. Mendoza, don’t fail her now. </em></p><p>Adam says something that sends Adora into a slight frenzy.  She begins to pace around the room, throwing one hand around wildly as loose strands of her ponytail fall into her face.  Catra meets her eyes and raises her eyebrows when Adora glances back at her, her eyes having never left Adora’s tall frame.  Adam lets out an <em> oo</em>-ing sound, and Adora scoffs loudly.  She begins her rant again, and Catra’s lost all hope at deciphering what they’re saying before she hears Adam cut in.  The only words she understands are <em> ‘te quiero’</em>.</p><p>
  <em> That means ‘like’, right?  Or, does that mean love?  Is he talking about himself or Adora?  Or her?  Is he talking about her to Adora? </em>
</p><p>Catra shakes her head slightly at herself and her hammering heart as she bends over on the bed to pick up her phone.  Worrying about this like a love-struck teenager isn’t going to do her any good in her situation.  She’s scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, trying not to eavesdrop anymore, when she thinks she hears Adam bid Adora goodbye.  She’s right, because seconds later, Adora throws herself down on the bed next to Catra.  She pushes the palms of her hands into her eyes and breathes out loudly.</p><p>“You good?” Catra asks, looking away from her phone.  Adora nods, not taking her hands away from her face.  “Gonna need a little more than that, here.  You’re a big girl.  Use your big girl words.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m okay.  He just, uh.”  Adora falters for a moment.  She pulls her palms away from her eyes to turn over and look at Catra.  Her face is close, too close, and Catra could probably count the light smattering of freckles around Adora’s sun-kissed nose if she wanted to.</p><p>She does.  She won’t let herself.</p><p>“He wanted to talk about something I didn’t want to talk about.  Just not at the moment,” Adora finishes, turning back around to stare up at the ceiling.  Next to her, Catra frowns.  It’s unlike Adora to shut down like this or purposely hide things from her.  She knows better than to push, but she knows that it’s unusual for Adora to not want to talk about her brother when given the chance.</p><p>“I thought you guys told each other everything?” Catra asks, hesitant to strike a nerve.  Adora nods slowly in response and lets out another deep breath.</p><p>“Well.  I mean, he knows about it.  We’ve talked about it.  It’s just something I don’t want to talk about right now.”</p><p>Catra’s frown deepens, but she decides not to push the topic.  “Okay.  We don’t have to talk about it, either.”</p><p>Adora lets out a short huff.  “I’d prefer it if we didn’t.”  She stops, suddenly.  Her mouth opens, like she’s about to say something, but her jaw snaps closed after a moment.  “At least, not right now.”  </p><p>She doesn’t say anything after that, and Catra lets them lull into a comfortable silence.  She scoots down on the bed and moves to lay down next to Adora, making sure to leave a few inches of space between them.  She lets her fingers splay across her stomach after smoothing down the back of her blazer, making sure to not let it wrinkle.</p><p>She cranes her neck slightly to look at Adora, who’s still staring up at the ceiling.  She’s moved her hands to settle behind her head, and her bandeau rides up from the stretch.  Catra forces herself not to look down at the bigger strip of toned skin that’s exposed.  Instead, she focuses on Adora’s face.  She doesn’t look mad or upset, but her cheeks are flushed slightly.  Her breathing is even and deep, and Catra watches the rise and fall of her broad chest, just for a moment.  The charm on Adora’s necklace rests slightly above the swell of her breasts, a strange, heart-shaped symbol reflecting the soft evening light streaming through the open blinds in her room.</p><p>“It’s a heart.  I know, it looks weird.”</p><p>Catra’s eyes snap up to Adora’s, gentle and blue.  “My mother gave it to me for my birthday the year she died.”</p><p>Catra can’t make out the look on Adora’s face.  “You don’t talk about them much.”</p><p>Adora sits up and sighs.  “Honestly?  I don’t really remember them that well anymore.”  Catra makes no movements, deciding to let Adora lead the conversation if she wants.  She’s been curious about Adora’s parents since she saw her ESPN interview so many weeks ago, but she knows better than to ask her to speak about something that sensitive without being prompted.</p><p>“It was a long time ago.  This necklace was the only thing I remembered to take with me before I came here.”  Adora chuckles.  “Adam brought our <em> Papi’s </em> lucky watch.  It only started to fit him last year.”  Adora reaches up to gently touch the charm, turning it in her long fingers.  “It’s <em> El Corazón de Etheria</em>.  <em> Mami </em> loved all kinds of… um, folklore, is what Americans call it.  When Adam and I were little, she used to tell us bedtime stories about this… magical world called Etheria.”  She leans over towards Catra and shows her the charm.  It’s a heart made completely of straight lines, small jewels encrusted on the angular points of the shape.  “When we left Eternia, Adam and I pretended that we were just going on an adventure to Etheria.  I mean… we were nine.  It was really the only way we could cope, I think.  It’s something that <em> Mami </em> and <em> Papi </em> did with us whenever we got on planes.”</p><p>“What were their names?” Catra asks softly.  She doesn’t want to break Adora out of her comfort zone.  Not when she’s not ready.</p><p>“Marlena and Randor.  Adam got the only normal name in the family.  I used to hate him for it.”</p><p>“I like ‘Adora’, though.  It’s… fitting.”  Catra sits up and wiggles her eyebrows at Adora.  “Everyone <em> adores </em> you.”</p><p>Adora groans and swats playfully at Catra’s shoulder.  “I heard that enough times growing up.  Don’t remind me.”</p><p>Catra grins back at her, and just for right now, she doesn’t care if her smile says too much.  “It’s pretty, though.”</p><p>Adora turns to face her fully, their faces just inches apart.  “Yeah?” she asks, a breathless tone to her low voice.</p><p>“Yeah,” Catra breathes back.  “Like I said.  It’s fitting.”</p><p>She immediately regrets the words as soon as she says them, terrified that she’s said too much.  Before she can react, though, Adora smiles widely at her, her nose and eyes crinkling.  It’s incredibly endearing, and it’s incredibly too much for Catra.  Adora says nothing in return, instead jumping up from her bed and plopping herself down in the chair by her desk.</p><p>“You said you wanted to do my make-up, right?” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Here’s the problem.</p><p>Catra prides herself on her social awareness skills.  She’s skilled in her inability to pick up on what people are feeling, even when they’re completely silent, and use it to her own advantage.  It’s never failed her, not once.</p><p>Except for right now.</p><p>Adora’s head is tilted back in her chair, bouncing a foot against the carpet.  The movement jostles her body slightly, all the way up to her head.  Catra huffs and pulls her brush away from Adora’s cheek.</p><p>“If you keep fucking bouncing like that, you’re going to make me make <em>you</em> look like a clown.  You wanna look like a fucking clown?  Do you want clown cheeks, Adora?”</p><p>Adora snorts.  “You called me a clown yesterday.”</p><p>“Yeah, you act like one.  You don’t look like one.”</p><p>Adora quicks an eyebrow at her and turns her eyes towards Catra.  “What do I look like, then?”</p><p>Catra throws her gaze to Adora’s cheek, where the blend of the pink blush is starting to transition smoothly to the rest of Adora’s skin tone.  “Not a clown,” she grumbles, lifting her brush again.</p><p>Since the day they met, they <em> really </em> met, Catra hasn’t been able to get a read on Adora.  There are certain instances where she thinks maybe, <em> maybe</em>, Adora feels the same way about her.  The way she reacted earlier when Catra asked her to go to the date function with her.  Her reaction to Catra’s suit.  The casual joking.  The way she teases her.  The way that Adora started to open up to her quickly.  Her eagerness to hang out with Catra.  Her unwavering support of her dream to go to law school, no matter how outlandish it still seems to Catra.  The way she doesn’t push her to say or do anything, to talk about anything, to even be anything.  The way she seems to like Catra for who she is.</p><p>Adora, though, is an incredibly nice person.  If she wasn’t from Spain, Catra would have started teasing her for being an American ‘girl next door’ the minute she met her.  But, she’s seen her interact with people on campus and random friends they run into enough times for Catra to have decided that she doesn’t just treat Catra like that- she treats <em> all </em> of her friends like that.  But, there’s something about the way she talks to Catra, the things she says to Catra, the way she lets Catra take the lead, that holds a certain edge of softness that she hasn’t seen her give to anyone else.</p><p><em> ‘I was looking at you, too,’ </em> Adora’s voice rings in her mind.  Catra still has no clue what that means, what it was even <em> supposed </em> to mean.</p><p>Over the past month, Catra has come to the conclusion that she would rather, quite literally, drop dead before she asks Adora how she feels about her.  Not only would she hate the feeling of vulnerability and embarrassment, but she doesn’t want to risk Adora pulling away from her if she doesn’t feel the same.  Adora seems to understand her on a level that nobody else does, even if she doesn’t know anything about her.  Adora understands the way Catra works, and knows when to push and when to pull.</p><p>It’s rare.  Adora, her existence in Catra’s life, is rare.  It’s rare enough that there is absolutely no way Catra, in all of her self-destructive glory, would ever want to give that up.  And, if she’s lucky, she won’t push Adora away.</p><p>All things considered, her life would be a hell of a lot easier if she could just figure out if Adora liked her back.</p><p>Catra brings herself out of her own thoughts to focus on Adora’s cheek.  “This side’s done,” she announces, plopping down her brush in her make-up bag.  She trades it out for a stick of concealer, eyeing the name of the color carefully.  “Don’t think you’re shade four-sixty, and I’m not wasting Fenty concealer on you, Jolly Green Giant.  You got any concealer?”</p><p>Adora huffs.  “I am not green, and no.”</p><p>Catra looks at her dubiously.  “... You don’t own any concealer?  Do you own any make-up at all?”  Adora shakes her head.</p><p>Catra, for a moment, lets her mouth move faster than her brain.  “Dude, why?  You have…” she gestures vaguely to her own chin, but her eyes widen in horror as Adora reaches up to graze her fingertips over the dual scars on her own chin.  “Oh, fuck.  Shit, uh.  I’m sorry.  That was, like, really fucking insensitive.”</p><p>But instead of being mad, Adora just smiles up at Catra.  “Two in one day, huh?”  Catra scoffs and leans back, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of Adora.  “It’s okay.  I don’t own make-up because I don’t really think there’s any shame in having scars.  We all have them.”  She shrugs.  “Some are just visible.  Also, I have a great complexion.”</p><p>Catra swallows thickly, ignoring Adora’s attempt at lightening the mood.  “Can I ask what happened?”  This is the <em> Day of Invasively Personal Questions, </em> apparently.</p><p>“I was nine,” Adora says softly, turning in her chair to fully face Catra.  “It was my first month in the orphanage.  It was… hard.  I didn’t speak English, I had no clue where my brother was, and I was pretty fucking terrified.”</p><p>Catra prepares herself for what she knows will be the sad story behind Adora’s facial scars.  She knows that Adora had faced some form of physical abuse in the home she was in, if her attempts at dark humor via TikTok were any indication.  She readies herself to reach out for Adora if she becomes overwhelmed or doesn’t want to elaborate.  She’s usually good at pushing down the urges to touch Adora, to be close to her, to hold her.  But, this time, she feels that throwing that caution to the wind may be of use.</p><p>Instead, Adora laughs and says, “There was this stray cat that roamed around the building at night.  I tried to pet her, once, and she clawed me.”</p><p>Catra blinks.  “That’s it?”</p><p>Adora throws her head back and cackles.  “Did you think there was some kind of tragic backstory to this?” she says between laughter, pointing to the faded red marks on her face.  “It was just a mean little cat.  We became friends, eventually, and I would bring her food and play with her when I could, if I knew I wasn’t going to get in trouble.”</p><p>Catra lets herself grin.  “Ever the altruist, huh?”  Adora shrugs.</p><p>“I liked the cat.  And she liked me.  She was my best friend when I was living there.  And when Mara finally found Adam and I and adopted us, leaving that little cat behind was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”  Adora sighs and puts her hands on her hips.  “She got me through some really, really hard times.  I hope she’s doing okay.”</p><p>“I bet that little fucker’s doing just fine,” Catra says, standing to put her make-up bag away.  “If it’s not dead yet.”</p><p>Adora gasps.  “Catra!  Be nice to Applesauce Meowmeow!”</p><p>Catra can’t contain the laughter that erupts from her throat.  “I- you named the fucking cat <em> Applesauce Meowmeow</em>?”</p><p>Adora sticks her chin up and pouts.  “‘Applesauce’ was the first English word I learned when I got here, and the cat said ‘meow’.”  She throws her hands up, feigning exasperation.  “I was a lonely nine-year-old.  Sue me.”</p><p>When her laughter subsides, Catra straightens herself back up and pulls at the lapels of her blazer, attempting to straighten any creases in the collar.  “We’ve got maybe thirty minutes before this thing starts.  It’s a fifteen minute drive to Salineas.  Wanna call the Uber?”</p><p>“Are we not going to, um, pre-game?”</p><p>Catra turns to stare Adora down, giving her the most bored look that she can muster.  “Does ‘Miss Professional Student Athlete’ have any Svedka in her apartment?”</p><p>Adora shifts her balance from one foot to the other.  “... No.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought,” Catra drawls, sitting back down on the bed and opening the Uber app.  “We’ll drink there.  You did tell me that your teammate was working the bar, so I’m expecting free drinks tonight, She-Ra.”</p><p>Adora giggles- <em> giggles- </em> and flops down next to Catra.  “If Mermista’s working, I don’t think we’ll <em> remember </em> tonight when it’s over.”</p><p>Catra reaches up to poke an acrylic into Adora’s forehead.  “Now, <em> that’s </em> what I like to hear.”</p><p>The Uber, of course, is late, and Catra tries her hardest not to let Adora fall into a tizzy as the clock ticks closer to 8:00.  When Catra’s phone finally dings with the arrival notification, Adora all but jumps off of her bed and sprints out of the front door.  Catra tries to run after Adora, who’s long legs have already carried her to the end of the hall, when she realizes that something’s missing.</p><p>“FUCK!” she yells, and her voice echoes down the hall towards Adora, who whips her head around.  “I forgot my fucking wallet!”</p><p>Catra runs back inside and snatches her wallet from Adora’s dresser, feeling surprised at the pleasant feeling of adrenaline running through her veins.  She had been dreading the date function for a few hours, too worried about any potential awkwardness that would arise from Adora being her <em> date.</em>  Having to slow dance with her.  Letting herself get drunk with her.  Adora looking too fucking hot in that <em> damn suit</em>.</p><p>Now, though, she can’t deny that she feels excited.  Adora had inadvertently calmed Catra’s nerves just by being herself tonight, and for whatever reason, it had worked for her.  When Catra walks back out of Adora’s apartment, Adora is waiting for her at the door frame, leaning slightly against it.</p><p>“What was it you said earlier about ‘five whole minutes’?” she asks, her smirk cocky.  Looking down at Catra, Adora looks ethereal.  The light of the hallway casts a small halo on top of her head, and her gaze is domineering.  Catra fights down a shiver and raises her eyes to meet Adora’s.</p><p>“Shut up,” she mutters, brushing past Adora.  “Come on.  The guy’s not gonna wait for us forever.”  Adora steps in front of her and extends her hand out to her.</p><p>“Let’s go, then.  We don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”</p><p>Catra can’t help but smile as she reaches out to take Adora’s hand.  Adora laces her fingers with Catra’s, and though her palm is a lot bigger than her own, Catra’s breath hitches at the feeling that their hands fit together perfectly.</p><p>“No,” she breathes.  “I guess we don’t.”</p><p>She lets Adora lead her down the hall, hand in hand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. vodka & vulnerability</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Catra drinks to forget, Adora dances to remember, and the two of them remain as oblivious as physically comprehensible.</p><p>It doesn't do anything to stop Catra once vodka takes control of her, though.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TUMBLR: @yangaf</p><p>coupla things to say</p><p>1.) if you haven’t been drunk before, it’s kinda weird but imo super fun. when I get drunk and when i’m SUPER drunk (not blackout) I always know that I am and my thoughts are 80% of the time completely coherent, but my inhibition and filter flies right out of the window, along with any sense of regret or reason or logic or comprehension abilities. I know when I’m drunk, and I know that I can make some weird choices or say things I don’t understand, so I tried as hard as I could to put this into words here!!!!</p><p>2.) before quarantine i went clubbing almost 2-3 days a week so i tried to make this as realistic as possible w what actually happens at clubs bc some of yall write college aus and were fucking nerds in college and it shows</p><p>3.) I DO NOT ENDORE UNDERAGE DRINKING @ MINORS DONT DO IT BC U THINK ITS COOL BC DRINKING UNDERAGE AND DOING DRUGS MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A POSER SO DON'T DO THAT SHIT</p><p>anyway… songs to listen to for the chapter’s vibe:</p><p>pyro - chester young<br/>behemoth - svdden death (BANGERRRR)<br/>surf club - saint jhn<br/>valentino - 24kgoldn<br/>guilty conscience - devault remix- 070 shake (ANOTHER BANGER)<br/>whats poppin remix - jack harlow (*chefs kiss*)<br/>the london - young thug<br/>que pretendes - bad bunny (*BIGGER chefs kiss*)<br/>and of course…. party in the USA - miley cyrus</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing that Catra picks up on when they get into the Uber is that Adora is visibly nervous.</p><p>Adora keeps fiddling with her belt and her fingernails, pulling and tugging in every which way. It’s a stark contrast between the confident and collected Adora that she knows- level-headed and straight-standing. Catra makes a mental note to look for spaces in the bar that are just a bit less congested than the rest of the area in case Adora becomes uncomfortable with the noise or the crowd.</p><p>The second thing that Catra picks up on is that Adora won’t stop <em> looking </em> at her.</p><p>She glances at her out of the corner of her eye every few seconds, and then down, like she’s checking her face and her body. The third time it happens, Catra looks down at her phone screen and squints at her reflection in the dim lighting to make sure that her make-up hasn’t been smudged. The fifth or sixth time, she sends a quick glance down at herself to make sure that her outfit hasn’t been rumpled in any way. The ninth time it happens, she’s hyper aware of it, and she starts to bite down the insecurities that stream into her head.</p><p>
  <em> What if she’s having second thoughts? What if she just said yes to say yes? What if she doesn’t actually want to go to this thing? Can they just ditch? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Does Adora even want to be here with her? </em>
</p><p>It’s like Adora can read her mind. “I’m sorry if I look nervous,” she starts softly, pulling Catra out of her miniature spiral. “I just… I mean, I don’t really know how these things are supposed to go. I’ve only been to one, and it was on some farm. Not a bar.”</p><p>Catra snorts. “A farm? That’s the saddest shit I’ve ever heard. You’ve been to bars before, though.”</p><p>“I- yes.”</p><p>Catra nods. “Yeah, I mean, that’s pretty much it. We’re going to a bar, and a shit ton of other people are going to be there. Music and drinks and shit. Like, that’s the gist.”</p><p>Adora turns to look at her fully, and the pendant hanging above her breasts shimmers when the car drives by a street light. “But… This is a date function.”</p><p>“... Is there really nothing up there?” she teases, poking Adora in the forehead. “Yeah, it’s a date function.”</p><p>“So… We’re each other’s <em> dates </em> at this thing.”</p><p>Catra nods slowly, not understanding where this is going in the slightest. In retrospect, she doesn’t think she could have been any clearer than explicitly asking her to go to her date function with her just a few hours earlier. “Yes, Adora. How astute. Incredible perception. Wow.”</p><p>Adora looks down and twirls her thumbs together. “So… Is it supposed to be different than just going to a bar because you’re my date?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Out of all of the questions she could have asked, that was not the one that Catra was expecting.</p><p>Her eyebrows jump as her heart jumps into her throat. </p><p>“Do…” she starts slowly, and she tries to pick out her next words as carefully as possible to avoid the perception of coming on to her. “... Do you, like, want it to be different?”</p><p>Adora shrugs at her. “I mean, what would be different?”</p><p>The only thing she can think to do right now to distract herself from overanalyzing Adora’s words is to cover her nerves with humor. Historically, she’s been absolutely fucking terrible at it. Still, she tries for Adora.</p><p>Catra sighs dramatically at her and brings a finger up to tap at her chin. “Well, we’d still dance to shitty rap music. We’d still get drunk off our asses.” Adora nods, her face neutral, like this is brand new information to her.</p><p>“We’d still take blurry fucking Snapchats-”</p><p>“- I don’t really use Snapchat all that much-”</p><p>“- because you’re a fucking nerd,” Catra adds hastily, and continues her fake list. “I mean, that’s all there is to it. The only thing I can think of that would actually be different is if you wanna take the term ‘date’ super seriously. It’s just a date function, Adora. Honestly, it’s gonna be fine. Maybe a little fucking loud. And, if you hate it, we can bail. Cool?”</p><p>Adora opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something, and her eyebrows furrow when she closes it. Catra watches her lips press together, and <em> oh, shit, did she say something wrong? What the fuck did she say wrong? </em></p><p>“... Catra,” she starts, the flip of her ‘r’ pronounced from the slowness that she speaks with. Adora looks less nervous, now, but there’s a look in her eye and an expression on her face that Catra doesn’t recognize, that she’s scared to put a name to.</p><p>“Do you… Do you want to take the te-”</p><p>“Here,” the Uber driver interjects gruffly. Catra swings her head to look out of the window at the club. People ooze out of the doors, the volume of the music vibrates through the floor of the car, and then, she hears the door next to her open and close.</p><p>Adora jumps out of her seat before Catra can even unbuckle her seatbelt and runs to the other side of the car. She opens Catra’s door with a goofy flourish and holds a hand out for Catra to grab it.</p><p>“<em>Ms. Weaver</em>,” she says in a faux British accent that clashes atrociously with her natural Spanish accent. Catra can’t help but chuckle at Adora’s nerve-propelled antics, and she takes the slender hand in front of her.</p><p>“You’re technically <em> my </em> date, dumbass,” she deadpans, and Adora cocks her head down at her. “I should be the one opening doors for <em> you</em>. Logistically, that’s how this works.”</p><p>Adora shrugs. “Well, logistically, I don’t care, because I did it first. Deal with it.” Her natural accent stumbles over ‘logistically’, and the shudder that goes up Catra’s spine is so violent that her shoulders twitch.</p><p>Catra scoffs at her and tries to get a hold on her composure. Letting herself melt now would only invite mess after mess, and tonight, she just wants something to go right.</p><p>“I’ve never been someone’s actual date to one of these things before,” Adora offers shyly when Catra slides up next to her.</p><p>She’s being incredibly soft right now, and it might in a way that’s a bit overwhelming as she smiles down at Catra with a shy but hopeful look in her eye. Catra’s heart flutters painfully in her chest, and just for a second, she lets herself think about the potential positives instead of the impending negatives.</p><p>Maybe Adora really <em> does </em> want to be her date. A real, legitimate date.</p><p>“Well, fuck the seriousness of a date function, then. Let me show you a good time, you gigantic idiot. We’ll have fun.” Her tone comes out teasing, just like she meant it, but her words are harsh. Catra mentally cringes at the violent contrast between the two. </p><p>She can’t help it- she can’t help her natural defenses, she can’t help her attraction, and she can’t help the flare of anxiety that seeps into her bones when Adora’s smile grows just the slightest.</p><p>“I’d like that,” she says softly, and her hand tightens gently around Catra’s.</p><p>Well, if Adora’s going to be taken on an actual date function, she’s going to get an actual experience.</p><p>Still, she can’t help the steel strength of her mental walls, but what <em> can </em> help her, however, is alcohol. A lot of it, immediately.</p><p>She tugs Adora’s hand forward as she marches up to the sorry excuse for a bouncer at the front entrance. It’s some kid from Delta Chi, and she vaguely recognizes his face from some fundraiser event. She cuts in front of all of her waiting sorority sisters and their dates, and when Caroline from the Rules and Calendar Board yells an expletive at her, she sticks her middle finger out in return.</p><p>“Catra Weaver,” she says easily to the boy. He looks at her and his eyes go wide before he begins to furiously type on his tablet.</p><p>“Um- uh,” he sputters, and Catra huffs. “I’m- okay, Catra, Vice President, okay. Cool. Okay. I got you.” He looks up at Adora, who just looks like she’s happy to be here. It’s kind of cute.</p><p>“Who’s this?” he asks with a shaky voice. Catra scoffs at him and wraps an arm around Adora’s bicep. She might as well give her a show.</p><p>“This is my date, idiot,” she snaps at the boy. He nods frantically, but his eyes don’t leave Adora.</p><p>“I mean, yeah I- I got that. Totally. But, um, I don’t have you down to take a guest, though.”</p><p>Catra blinks at him as she tries to reel in the anger that flares up in her chest. She throws him a fake smile, tight-lipped with gritted teeth, and she leans forward towards him.</p><p>“What the fuck do you mean ‘don’t have me down to take a guest’? She’s right here. Let us the fuck in.”</p><p>“Mhm. Mhm. Um. I can, like, probably work something out. It’s cool. Yup. Um.” He swallows hard, and his throat bobbles. “Um, what’s your name?”</p><p>“Who, me?” Adora asks, and Catra fights the urge to facepalm.</p><p>“Yes, dummy. You,” she snips, and Adora nods with understanding.</p><p>“Oh! Oh. Adora Grayskull.”</p><p>The boy’s jaw drops, just for a second, before his eyes begin to flicker between the two of them.</p><p>“Wow. Um. Shit. Power couple,” he breathes. He jerks his body to the side of the entrance to let them both pass through. Catra smirks at him and tightens her grip around Adora’s arm before stepping forward to lead them into the club.</p><p>“You’re fired,” she says to the boy on their way in, simply because she can. He looks absolutely panicked.</p><p>“What? You can’t fire m-”</p><p>“The fuck I can’t. I planned this date function. Technically, I hired you. Go get Rogelio Sanchez.”</p><p>“He’s with his boyf-”</p><p>“Go fucking get Rogelio Sanchez!”</p><p>The boy squeaks and jumps back before running past them into the club. Catra laughs at him, and Adora tilts her head with endearing confusion.</p><p>“You know, I always forget that you’re the Vice President of Kappa Delta,” she says, and Catra could not be more thankful for the fact that <em> ‘power couple’ </em> completely flew over her head.</p><p>“Yeah, well, it comes with its perks, sometimes,” she mumbles to her. The thought of her mother and her connection to the sorority causes her stomach to flip uncomfortably, and she doesn’t think she can wait a second longer to start drinking.</p><p>The club is jam-packed with people and drinks and horrible EDM music. Neon lights flash and flicker against the walls and the ceiling, and Catra grimaces as she waits for her ears to get adjusted to the vibrations of bass chords that pulse through her.</p><p>“Wildcat!”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, Jesus. Not now. </em>
</p><p>Scorpia flings herself at Catra out of virtually nowhere, and she makes a controlled effort to steady herself from the impact of Scorpia’s large frame. She loves her friend, but she doesn’t think she can handle too many people at once tonight. “Oh, man! I’m so glad you made it! I didn’t actually think you’d- ADORA!”</p><p>Adoa waves gingerly at Scorpia, and sends her a cute smile. “Hey, Scorpia! I didn’t know you were coming!”</p><p>“I didn’t know YOU were coming!”</p><p>“Scorpia,” Catra grits out at her as kindly as she can. “Shut the fuck-”</p><p>“Honeysuckle, they’re here. Let’s let them enjoy their night.” Perfuma suddenly slides up against Scorpia, and Catra makes a mental note to make sure that the next date function venue is free of any secret passages. She also makes a mental note to talk to Scorpia about cringey pet names.</p><p>Scorpia smiles down softly at her girlfriend when she leans her head against her shoulder. Perfuma raises the cup in her hand to her mouth before her eyes go wide with a sudden realization. “Oh, how rude of me!”</p><p>She offers her cup to Catra and Adora, and Catra dares to look inside at its contents.</p><p>“It’s kombucha,” Perfuma explains. “Would either of you like to try some?”</p><p>Catra blinks in mild disbelief. “How the fuck did you get that in here?”</p><p>Adora clears her throat. “I don’t know what ‘cubucha’ is.” </p><p>Catra looks up at her and shakes her head subtly in an attempt to tell her to decline the offer. Thankfully, Adora seems to get the message.</p><p>Perfuma shrugs. “More for me. Come on, dandelion, we haven’t even talked to Sea Hawk yet!” she shouts up at Scorpia over the blast of music.</p><p>“Oh, true! Well, okay, you two! Have fun, but not too much fun!” she yells at Adora and Catra. With that, the pair take off and disappear into the jumping crowd.</p><p>“They are so weird,” Adora sighs, and Catra wheels around because she has never been more thankful to hear that come out of a mouth that wasn’t her own.</p><p>“Thank you!” she yells dramatically. “God, thank you! I have been saying that for three fucking years!”</p><p>“They’re just so different? Like, Scorpia is so nice, but she’s so energetic, and Perfuma is the complete oppos-” Her sentence cuts off when her eyes lock firmly onto something just past Catra’s head. Catra turns around and follows Adora’s gaze to the table just a few feet ahead of them, where a tall, muscled woman is glaring them down. </p><p>More specifically, she’s glaring <em> Adora </em> down.</p><p>“Uh, Adora? Do you know her?” By the time the words come out of Catra’s mouth, the woman is making her way over to the two of them, her shoulders broad and her chest puffed out.  Catra looks up at Adora to see her set her jaw and pull her shoulders back, and she pushes down the thrill she feels when she sees the deadly look in Adora’s eye.</p><p>The woman stops just in front of the two of them, but she pays Catra no attention.</p><p>“<em>You,</em>” she spits at Adora, eyeing her up and down.</p><p>Adora says nothing for a moment, and Catra feels a slight panic run through her, because <em> holy shit, they’re about to be jumped, </em> but then-</p><p>“Huntara, you son of a bitch.”</p><p>The two women break out of their glares and grin at each other. Adora holds an arm out to Huntara, her palm in the air facing away from them, and Huntara eagerly clasps it. Catra clears her throat at the sight of Adora’s bicep bulging through the sleeve of her blazer.</p><p>“Good to see you off the field for once in your fucking life, Cap,” Huntara grunts, smirking.  </p><p>She finally looks down at Catra, who raises an eyebrow at her.  “And who’s this?”</p><p>“Huntara, this is Catra!” Adora exclaims, turning to sling an arm around the woman. Huntara is almost just as tall as Adora, which, frankly, is saying something. “Catra, this is Huntara, our goalie. Best goalie in the conference, right now.”</p><p>“Says the best player in the country,” she huffs back. Catra notices Adora tense at her words. “Catra.” Huntara extends a large hand to Catra, who shakes it loosely. “Heard a lot about you.”</p><p>At this, Catra cranes her neck up to meet Adora’s eyes. “Really?” she drawls. Adora’s hand disappears from Huntara’s shoulder.</p><p>“Um,” Huntara grunts. “Just, like, the way you’ve helped her with that dumbass class she’s in.  You’ve gotta be a fucking idiot to not pass Intro to Humanities.” Adora scoffs, and her hand reappears on Huntara’s shoulder.</p><p>Catra hums, still looking at Adora’s slightly panicked face. “She’d be dead without me.”</p><p>“We all would,” Huntara agrees, turning to shove Adora’s shoulder. The taller woman laughs and shoves her back playfully before taking her spot next to Catra again.</p><p>“You guys have fun,” Huntara says, waving a hand at them. “Some girl’s been giving me googly eyes since I walked in. I’m gonna go cash in on that. Don’t let her get too fucked, Catra.” </p><p>Adora gives her a mock salute, Catra waves her fingers at her, and the woman disappears into the crowd.</p><p>“So,” Catra starts, tilting her head up at Adora. Adora’s eyes go wide, and Catra realizes that they’re standing close- <em> very </em> close- practically squished together in a sea of drunken people.</p><p>Catra braces herself and cocks an eyebrow up at her. “Wanna get fucking drunk?”</p><p>Adora’s face breaks out into a smirk, and she leans down to take Catra’s hand into her own slender one. “I thought you’d never ask. Come on! I’m pretty sure I just saw Mermista at the bar.”</p><p>Catra lets Adora guide her through the crowd and push people out of their way to make room for the pair to move. She glances behind her every so often, like Catra will disappear at any moment, and Catra bites down the insecurity that flares up regarding her small height and size.</p><p>Adora stops just in front of the large main bar, illuminated by the neon signs and television screens that hang above it. She puts a hand on the small of Catra’s back and gently moves her forward, out of the way of the domineering crowd. Catra’s spine goes rigid at the gesture, but she can’t fight off the tingle in her stomach that stems from it.</p><p>The blue-haired girl behind the bar turns around to face the pair. “Be loud, or else I can’t fu-” Her loud yell over the noise of the crowd dies off when she spots Adora. </p><p>“Adora!” she shouts up at her. “Holy shit! I literally haven’t seen you anywhere that wasn’t the gym or the field!”</p><p>Adora shrugs and laughs sheepishly. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that tonight.”</p><p>“This your date?” Mermista jerks her head towards Catra, who steps forward and slides her debit card out of her wallet. </p><p>“<em>She </em> is <em> my </em> date,” she corrects, and she’s momentarily proud of the way her voice doesn’t shake at those words. </p><p>Mermista raises an eyebrow, amused, and Adora’s hand presses a bit firmer against the small of her back. “Well, well,” Mermista mutters, looking pleased.</p><p>“This is Catra!” Adora smiles goofily, and Mermista rolls her eyes at the pair as she scoffs.</p><p>“Yeah, no shit that’s Catra.” </p><p>Catra’s eyebrows raise at that. <em> What the hell does that mean? </em></p><p>“You don’t have to,” Mermista continues boredly, gesturing at the debit card in Catra’s hand. “I owe Adora a favor, or whatever. Your drinks are on the house tonight, I guess.”</p><p>Catra raises an eyebrow, briefly angered by the prospect of not being able to actually treat her ‘date’ like a <em> date</em>, but she decides that at this point, it’s such a trivial thing.</p><p>“Vodka cran,” she says smoothly, and glances up at Adora, whose eyes are shining a beautiful blue under the neon lights. “And, um, whatever she wants. Anything she wants.”</p><p>Mermista raises a single eyebrow at her and smirks. “Anything she wants? Adora, name three types of alcohol.”</p><p>Adora looks thoughtful for a moment before she says, “Vodka, tequila, beer.”</p><p>Mermista blinks up at her. “Jesus. That was fucking pathetic.” Her hands fly towards a nozzle and tower of plastic cups, and in just seconds, she’s sliding two drinks at the both of them. </p><p>“Vodka cran and a gin and tonic. Don’t go crazy, or whatever. Come back when you want shots.” </p><p>With that, she turns away to pay her attention towards the drunken boy at the corner of the bar furiously waving her down. “Ugh, fucking relax! I’m coming! You’re getting water, dude!”</p><p>Adora lifts her cup and takes a tentative sip from the dual straws. “Um,” she grimaces, pulling the cup away from her. “This is, um, wow.”</p><p>Catra laughs and downs half of her cup in a single sip, relishing in the way the vodka burns the back of her throat. “Strong, right? Just drink it fast. You’re not supposed to enjoy it. You’re supposed to drink it to get drunk.”</p><p>Adora nods, her face turning deadly serious. She throws the straws onto the ground, tilts her head back, and knocks the entire cup down in a few short gulps. </p><p>She looks absolutely <em> ridiculous,</em> like a starving baby bird in the body of a six-foot tall athlete. Catra surprises herself at the snort that comes out of her nose, and then she’s laughing, deep from her stomach with a kind of amusement that she's unfamiliar with.</p><p>“Bitch, I- I didn’t fucking mean like <em> that!” </em> she heaves out through a laugh. Adora’s face twists with disgust, and she shudders visibly as she shakes her head.</p><p>“Well, it’s gone! Let’s dance!”</p><p>“Dude, let me finish my d-”</p><p>“Do it on the way!”</p><p>It’s almost pathetic the way that Catra can’t deny her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Adora dances like she smiles. Bold, strong, and- most of the time- goofy.</p><p>Catra can feel that her face is red with exhilaration- and, perhaps, the flush of alcohol- as she watches Adora try her fourth attempt at doing The Floss, only to fail miserably.</p><p>Her thoughts are getting blurred, and her cognition is getting a bit slower. She knows that she’s getting drunk, but with every sip that she takes, her nerves fade away as she dances and laughs with Adora.</p><p>Adora seems to be having a good time, too. The gorgeous smile on her face has barely slipped, and when it does, it’s replaced by a cute pout and furrowed brows as she concentrates on doing some dance move. She’s a horrible dancer, much like she’s a horrible actress, but Catra’s liquor-filled veins can’t force her to think of it as anything else but endearing.</p><p>“I can’t fucking get it!” Adora whines over the beat of some horrible rap song, but she’s smiling so wide that for a second, Catra doesn’t register her words.</p><p>“You’re not moving your hips enough!” she laughs back at her, breathless, and Adora stops for a moment before raising an eyebrow at Catra.</p><p>“Show me, then, if you’re so good at it!”</p><p>She knows what Adora means. She knows that Adora is asking her to do it herself, to demonstrate the dance easily for her. She sets her drink down on the small table next to them, tucked in the corner of the bar where they’ve migrated to.</p><p>She moves before she’s even processing that she’s doing so. She doesn’t know whether to blame it on the third mixed drink, or the two extra shots, or the absolute lovesick feeling that pangs her heart when she stands too close to Adora.</p><p>Catra reaches forward to settle her hands over Adora’s tight hips. Adora’s head snaps down to look at her, her eyes blown wide, but Catra can’t find it within herself to care at the moment, even though she knows that she <em> should</em>.</p><p>Instead of worrying, though, she pushes Adora’s hips to the side, gently, before pushing them in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Like that,” she says haughtily, smirking up at Adora. Adora nods silently, her eyes still wide, and then Catra feels her own hand reach behind her to grab her drink again. She pulls the slim straws into her mouth and sips down her drink like it’s water, only realizing after she swallows that she’s doing it to mute the unsteady beat of her heart.</p><p>Adora takes a step closer to her, and the straws slip from Catra’s lips. Adora’s looking at her like she hasn’t before, and Catra’s fuzzy train of thought comes to a stop as she takes in the sharp cut of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the small smattering of freckles that dusts across her nose.</p><p>The beat of the song blasting through the club changes, sudden and violent, and then Adora’s eyes are going wide with excitement. Catra recognizes that it’s some kind of Spanish beat vibrating through their feet, and it seems that Adora does, too.</p><p>“I love this song!” she shouts, and then she’s pulling Catra by both hands into the middle of the dance floor.</p><p>Adora doesn't hesitate to push people out of her way to clear a path for the both of them, and she makes it look fairly easy due to her height and size. Catra can’t help the intrusive thought that floods her mind.</p><p>
  <em> She’s so hot when she’s bodying people. </em>
</p><p>Adora stops her when they reach the middle of the dance floor and spins around to smile at Catra, wide and happy. </p><p>“You wanna see how to move your hips?” she teases, and then her hands are going up over her head as she begins to sway with the beat.</p><p>Catra’s jaw nearly hits the ground.</p><p>The way Adora starts to move is absolutely lewd. Her hips roll and twist, leading the rest of her body in fluid movements as she sways to the beat of the song. The Spanish beat courses through the metal of the dance floor and sends tingles up the base of Catra’s spine. Adora continues her movements and raises both of her eyebrows down at Catra, who is rooted to the spot by lust and confusion.</p><p>“Come on!” Adora encourages as she reaches a hand down to spin Catra gently in her place. Adora’s touch dizzies her and heats her to the core, and she doesn’t think that she can blame it on the alcohol anymore. In her mildly drunken stupor, she tries to copy her, but she fails almost as poorly as Adora was failing earlier.</p><p>A woman starts to sing over the beat of the song, and Adora joins in lazily. Her voice glides with expertise over the Spanish words, and Catra doesn't know if she can handle both that and the dangerous sway of her hips at the same time.</p><p>Her voice is scratchy and low over the beat of the music, and she might be slightly out of tune with the melody, but Catra is entranced by the flip and roll of her words as her tongue dances behind her lips with the words. Adora’s lips are wet and full, and if she leans up, just enough, she could-</p><p><em> No, </em> something tells her. <em> You’ve had too much to drink. </em></p><p>So, Catra continues to try and follow Adora’s lead. She’s too stiff, shackled by alcohol and want and a complete lack of dexterity that requires any skills besides jumping up and down to a beat. Adora looks back at her again and laughs before stepping closer to Catra.</p><p>She presses the front of her body against Catra’s own, and she almost melts at the feeling of Adora’s exposed strip of skin pressing against her own stomach. Adora reaches down to grab Catra’s hips firmly in strong hands, and she moves them from side to side like Catra had done to her earlier.</p><p>“Um, uh,” she stutters, and Adora raises an eyebrow cheekily up at her. “What are you doing?</p><p>“You’re not moving your hips enough,” she teases with a smirk. Catra rolls her eyes as another wave of heat courses through her at Adora’s touch.</p><p>“Very funny,” she grumbles as she tries to fight her impending blush. A drink tray catches her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she lunges forward at the club’s bottle girl to grab two shot glasses from the tray. She downs them both as quickly as she can, not caring about the burn of vodka that trails down the back of her throat.</p><p>“Be careful!” Adora warns, and Catra sends her a lazy flick of her hand. The less she feels, the more fun she’ll have.</p><p>It’s minutes later when Catra begins to fight the new wave of inebriation that threatens to overcome her. <em> Don’t blow this for her. You promised you would show her a good time. </em></p><p>She resigns herself to dancing next to Adora as chastely as she can, absolutely forbidding herself from being sucked back into Adora’s orbit. The beat of the song changes abruptly, and it slows to a soft thrum under her sore feet.</p><p>It’s a slow-dance song.</p><p>Adora moves for her before Catra can even remember the title of the song- <em> she knows the song, she knows she does</em>- and her head is being pressed against Adora’s chest before she can fully process it. They sway together, soft and slow, and Catra lets her eyes flutter shut momentarily.</p><p>She wants them to stay like this forever.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They don’t, of course. </p><p>When the date function ends, Adora leads her out of the bar with an arm slung around Catra’s waist.</p><p>Catra barely remembers the Uber ride back to Adora’s apartment, all of it being thrown together in the haze of a drunken memory. In the back of her mind, she vaguely wonders how she’s going to get home. The both of them have been drinking, and she’ll fight Adora before letting her drive. She resigns herself to the fact that she’ll end up walking back to the Kappa Delta house across campus.</p><p>Maybe she’ll look good on the back of a milk carton.</p><p>She remembers, though, Adora gently leading her out of the Uber and taking her blazer off to place it around Catra’s shaking shoulders. It smells like sweat, some kind of perfume and pinewood. The air is cold, the sky is dark, and street lights illuminate the sidewalk leading to Adora’s complex.</p><p>The moonlight shines down softly on the pair as they walk, Adora’s bare arm still slung around Catra’s waist to lead her uncoordinated steps. She’s crouched down, just slightly, and Catra revels in the way she’s pressed against her.</p><p>There are too many things she wants to say to Adora.</p><p>
  <em> I had so much fun tonight. Your laugh is gorgeous. You make me feel so comfortable with myself. Did we know each other in a past life? Do you feel the same way I do?  </em>
</p><p>She says the most coherent thought that comes to mind.</p><p>“Hey, how did Mermista know who I was? At the bar?” she asks, because she thinks she might know, but she doesn’t want to be wrong. Words and thoughts swim around her head with the taste of vodka, and the lights make Adora look so efervescent that she thinks it would pain her to look away.</p><p>“Oh, probably because I talk about you a lot,” Adora says with an ease to her tone.</p><p>Catra vaguely registers that Adora isn’t actually drunk- at least, not visibly. Her steps are even, her voice is even, and she’s even more beautiful leaving the club than Catra remembers her when they walked in.</p><p>For some reason, Catra giggles at Adora’s words. She presses her cheek up to her face, letting her body melt into her heat.</p><p>“That’s funny,” she hears herself slur. The warmth of Adora’s body is intoxicating, and she feels herself press her cheek against Adora’s in a movement that blurs in her mind. “You’re warm. Like, really warm. Don’t move. I’ll kill you.” </p><p>She doesn’t know what she’s saying, she doesn’t know why she’s saying it, but the reasonable part of her brain that’s screaming at her to be quiet is drowned out by partially hazy thoughts and <em> Adora</em>.</p><p>“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” Adora laughs prettily, and Catra doesn’t process that her hands are squeezing Adora’s bicep until she feels muscle flex under her fingertips.</p><p>“You’re always cute.”</p><p>
  <em> Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. </em>
</p><p>The words slip out like they were meant to do so- like if they stayed inside of her mouth, it would have killed her. Catra’s eyes widen with Adora’s at the words, and when Catra’s body freezes in a drunken shock, Adora just laughs that same pretty laugh down at her again.</p><p>“You think I’m cute?” Adora asks, her eyes wide and her dimples on display, and of course Catra has to nod at her lazily.</p><p>“I have eyes. They s- They see that you are. Cute. Really fucking cute.” And <em> wow</em>, those words could not have come out worse, and Catra knows that she should stop, but she doesn’t know how to make herself.</p><p>She’s out of control. In a way, it’s kind of liberating.</p><p>“You talk about me to your soccer friends?” she continues blindly, and her brain eases its meltdown at the minor change in subject.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re beautiful,” Adora breathes, and Catra’s body goes hot as her mouth sears the words across her cheek. Her heart flutters painfully at the compliment, and her vision goes slightly dizzy as Adora’s lips ghost across her skin.</p><p>“You- You don’t look half-bad, either,” she manages to choke out, and she feels Adora shake her head against her.</p><p>“No,” she says, and shifts to face Catra completely. They’re close, just like they were in the club, but there’s a level of intimacy to their proximity that makes Catra’s heart pound against her chest. </p><p>She is <em> really </em> drunk, she vaguely realizes with a panicked start. She’s <em> really </em> drunk, she’s freezing, Adora’s skin is glowing under the soft moonlight, and she thinks she might already be halfway in love with her.</p><p>It scares her right down to the very fibre of her being- the vulnerability, the want, the lust that she feels towards Adora tears into the muscle of her heart and aches with a foreign burn. The momentary shock of panic is mildly sobering, but any coherency flies back out of the window when Adora opens her mouth again</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Adora repeats, her tone firmer. “It’s all I think about.”</p><p>And Catra knows that she’s being honest, because Adora has never lied to her blatantly- she’s never had a reason to- but still.</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Catra sighs in defense, and she tries to pull gently away from Adora.</p><p><em> You’re not safe</em>, her mother’s voice rings in her head, and all at once, her insecurities bubble to the surface.</p><p>
  <em> Adora will use her, Adora will hurt her, Adora is lying to her. </em>
</p><p>The reasonable part of her- the part that knows and wants Adora- tells her it’s not true. The dichotomy of her emotions clash with each other painfully, and her heart pounds with want and fear. The alcohol in her system comes back in full force when she feels a strong hand gently cup the underside of her jaw. She’s punch-drunk at Adora’s touch, she’s incredibly drunk off of vodka, and it’s too much for her but <em> it’s not enough. </em></p><p>“I’m not,” Adora says softly, and the scars on her jaw move when she flexes her jaw. “I’m not. I’m serious.”</p><p>Catra can’t find anything to say. Her vision swims in and out of focus.</p><p>“I- Look. I know we-“ Adora cuts herself off and looks down at the ground, but her fingers ghost over Catra’s chin. “I know we’re friends.”</p><p>Catra nods. “We’re friends,” she repeats, and they’re straying into territory that’s comfortable for her, but not what she wants at all.</p><p>Adora sighs. “And I know that you’re drunk, you’re- I think you’re <em> really </em> drunk, but, I just… I really had fun with you tonight. So much fun. It was- It was the most fun I’ve had in such a long time. I’m going to say these things because I don’t think you’ll remember them later, and I’m not brave enough to say this to you when you’re sober. You make me feel like I can be myself. I don’t have to worry about anything or anyone else because you… I don’t know. You ground me. Does that make sense?”</p><p>Adora’s words are crystal clear to her as she tries with a rapt aggressiveness to pay attention to her through her alcohol-induced haze. But, after a moment, they jumble together in her head, mixed with the soft lull of Adora’s low voice and her own strong emotions. She hates herself for it- she knows that what Adora is saying to her is most likely incredibly important. She knows that from the look on her face and the tone of her voice, from the way she looks at Catra with a soft look in her eye and a hesitant smile.</p><p>Her mouth is dry, <em> too </em> dry, and though she doesn’t recall exactly what Adora just said to her, how she felt when she said them still weighs heavy in her chest.</p><p>It’s too much, but it’s not enough.</p><p>Catra nods, the movement making her dizzy, and she can’t stop herself from flicking her eyes down to look at Adora’s lips. “Yeah,” she breathes, and Adora flashes her a shaky smile.</p><p>“Yeah,” she parrots. Catra feels her cotton mouth grin, drunk and lazy, and she smashes herself back into Adora.</p><p>“You’re warm,” she hears herself repeat, and Adora’s laugh makes her smile against the judgement that she knows is missing.</p><p>“Okay, love. I know you’re drunk. Let’s get you inside, yeah? You can stay the night. Neither of us should drive, and I won’t let you walk back.”</p><p>The word ‘love’ bounces around in Catra’s head, the only thing that’s loud and clear. It sends her down a rollercoaster of emotions- desire, fear, <em> hope</em>.</p><p>Adora quiets for a moment and stops just at the staircase of her building. “Did you have fun, too?” she asks softly, and Catra thinks that her heart snaps clean in half at the sound of her voice.</p><p>“I had too much fun, I think,” she feels her mouth slur. “I’m, like, really drunk, Adora. Fuck, I had such a good time with you. Even- even before the alcohol.”</p><p>Adora laughs, and Catra’s too drunk to decipher whether she’s laughing at her or with her. “I’m glad,” Adora smiles, and she leans forward to gently capture Catra’s hand in her own.</p><p>Words start to spew out of her mouth, and she barely registers the drunken ramble that she launches into.</p><p>“I was really nervous, though. I wanted you to have fun, and I- I wanted to have fun. For us to have fun together. I didn’t even know if you were cool with crowds.” She can’t find it within her capacity to tone it down. </p><p>“And it’s just, like, I had fun. I didn’t think I was gonna have fun. I fucking hate these things. Scorpia’s always asking me to go, and she’s so big, but she’s my best friend, and I don’t wanna drive her off like everyone else. Especially you. You’re so pretty, Adora. And you’re strong. You’re really fucking strong. You could- You could, like, lift a whole car, if you wanted to. Or a horse. I know you like horses. Go lift one. Even though I hate horses. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”</p><p>She babbles as she barely processes that Adora is gently guiding her up the steps, tugging her hand forward to slowly help her ascent. She thinks she trips, because suddenly, Adora is flush against her chest with her arms wrapped around her waist.</p><p>“Bro, are we about to kiss right now?” she hears her voice ask. Adora’s jaw drops at Catra, and a brief moment of sobriety hits her like her car hit the tree that brought Adora into her life.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. Fuck. She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. What the fuck.  </em>
</p><p>“... No,” someone says.</p><p>“Why?” someone else says.</p><p>And then Adora’s laughing and pulling away from her. Catra doesn’t have the motor skills to tug her back and kiss her like she wants to.</p><p>“Because you’re drunk, Catrina,” Adora says, and her full name offers Catra another sliver of the sobriety that she knows she should want right now.</p><p>When Catra blinks, they’re in Adora’s room. Her phone is being taken from her hand by someone who looks <em> just like </em> Adora, and she hears the soft chime of it being plugged into a charger.</p><p>“I’ll get you some water,” she says, and a door clicks behind her with a soft sound.</p><p>Catra spots a bed just a few feet in front of her, and she flops down face-first into the mattress. The smell of baby powder and something oddly familiar fills her head, but it’s quickly replaced by nausea. She feels like she’s on a boat, because the feeling of spinning and rocking and swaying is consuming the parts of her body that sink into the mattress.</p><p>Something nudges her shoulder. “Drink,” Adora’s voice says, and she could never, <em> ever </em> refuse her- not even if she tried.</p><p>Catra feels her arm lift up to accept the cup, and she lifts her head slowly towards it to prevent another wave of nausea from overcoming her. The cold water grounds her and she swallows it greedily, vaguely registering the drops that tumble down her chin. When the water is gone, she tries as hard as she can to put the cup on the nightstand next to her. She doesn’t know if she succeeds.</p><p>The sound of fabric rustling next to her catches her attention.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” she slurs out, and Adora-<em> it’s Adora!- </em>looks down at her like a deer caught in headlights.</p><p>“I’m sleeping on the couch. You’re my guest.”</p><p>“You said that to me the first day we actually met,” she breathes out lazily. She has no clue how she remembers that, but Adora’s voice is etched into the deepest parts of her mind. She chuckles softly, and it’s the best song Catra has ever heard in her life.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess I did. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, just wake me up and I’ll get it for you.”</p><p>Catra feels her cheek shift against the pillow with a nod, and the door shuts behind her. Catra lies alone in the bed, and her legs hurt from the odd angle they’re in, but she doesn’t think she knows how to move them.</p><p>
  <em> Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. </em>
</p><p>She can’t. Everything is too loud in her ears, though it’s quiet in the apartment. Her head spins, her throat burns for some reason, and she misses Adora. She misses her a <em> lot</em>.</p><p>She’s on her feet before she even realizes it.</p><p>The apartment is dark, just barely illuminated by the soft gleam of moonlight that floods in from the living room’s windows. It takes Catra a moment to register that Adora is on the couch, looking at something on her phone.</p><p>“Adora,” she mumbles, and then Adora’s at her side in an instant. Something happy jolts alive inside of her, and she reaches up to cup her hands over Adora’s shoulders. It’s a bit of a reach for her, but she thinks that she doesn’t mind it at all.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Are you okay? What do you need?” Adora breathes, and honestly, Catra doesn’t know.</p><p>“Okay, uh, do you want some painkillers then? Does your head hurt?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, did she say that outloud? </em>
</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>The most beautiful smile that Catra has ever bared witness to takes its place on Adora’s lips. She lets herself stare, and it’s like she’s doing something <em> forbidden</em>, because some part of her brain tells her that she doesn’t do this when Adora is close to her. She licks her own lips and wonders what it would feel like if Adora’s were pressed against hers.</p><p>She could find out if she really wanted to. </p><p>Catra feels her eyelids sink lower over her eyes as she continues to stare at Adora’s perfect lips.</p><p>
  <em> You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. </em>
</p><p>No part of Catra’s mind is able to stop her.</p><p>She doesn’t know who leans in first, doesn’t know who moves forward to who, doesn’t know when their lips meet. What she does know, however, is that Adora’s vice grip on her waist and the glide of her lips across her own might just be a heaven-sent gift. She breathes out a sigh of delicious relief as she pulls Adora closer down to her, and her acrylics push uncomfortably into the beds of her nails as she tightens her hold on Adora’s shoulder.</p><p>The feel of Adora’s lips against hers must be the most addicting thing in the entire world because she kisses her again and again, over and over, and she doesn’t think she could stop even if she tried her hardest. Her mind swims painfully with remnant liquor and lust, and the combination of the two dizzies her. Adora’s lips are firm and plush, and Catra feels her jaw drop just slightly against Adora’s mouth to try and take in more of her.</p><p>“No,” Adora gasps suddenly, and Catra doesn’t even remember when they stopped kissing. “No, we can’t. I- You’re drunk. You’re drunk, Catra.”</p><p>She feels an <em> ‘mhm’ </em> vibrate in her throat as she reaches a hand up to press her thumb to Adora’s bottom lip. She doesn’t know which hand it is. She leans up again and tugs on Adora’s lip with her teeth, and she can’t tell if she gasps or Adora does.</p><p>She presses her mouth to slot against Adora’s again, but this time, she wants more. She wants Adora to pick her up and carry her away and kiss her until her lungs give out, and then do it all over again.</p><p>It’s dark, it’s <em> so, so dark</em>, and she can’t see the hand that moves to grip her forearm before she feels it.</p><p>“No,” Adora’s voice says, firmer, and Catra lets out an unrestrained whine. And then she’s being turned around and led back into the room she came out of. She doesn’t remember who it belongs to. Her face meets a pillow, and then her source of warmth starts to pull away from her.</p><p>Her hand shoots out to grab Adora’s, and she tightens her fingers around it to try and ground herself. Something is wrong, and she <em> knows </em> this, but she’s not okay enough right now to figure it out or even care about what it might be.</p><p>“Please, just this once. Stay.”</p><p>She doesn’t know who says it, and she doesn’t care to find out. Sleep pulls at her, and she goes willingly into serene darkness.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Catra wakes up drenched in sweat.</p><p>Her eyes take a moment to adjust to her surroundings- clean space, the smell of baby powder, the trophy shelves, the black backpack on the ground.</p><p>Her eyes go wide. <em> This is Adora’s room. </em></p><p>She moves to sit up in a panic, but her head protests so violently that she has to swallow the contents of her stomach when they rush up her throat. After a moment, the nausea subsides, but the ache behind her eyes throbs painfully every time she blinks. Her body feels cold and hot, an uncomfortable juxtaposition that feels like the onset of a bad cold. Her feet are throbbing with a fading soreness, and she can feel the oil on her face from the remains of her make-up.</p><p>Something shifts against her thigh.</p><p>She turns her head as slow as physically possible and takes in Adora, sleeping soundly with half of her face smashed into her pillow. Her make-up looks completely untouched, her breathing is deep and slow, and her face has a peacefulness to it that makes Catra’s heart lurch.</p><p>She wants to reach out and touch Adora, against all reason. She wants to run her fingers down her soft cheek, over sharp cheekbones, down the length of the scars on her jaw-</p><p>Memories from the night prior suddenly flood her brain so furiously that she squeezes her eyes shut.</p><p>Dancing. Singing. Drinking. She doesn’t remember anything after that, which sends a shock of anxiety into her veins, but then-</p><p>They kissed.</p><p>The memory crashes into her, almost surreal. She might have dreamt it- <em> she hopes that she dreamt it</em>- but then she starts to remember the way that Adora’s lips moved against her own. Firm, wet, hot-</p><p>
  <em> No. No. No. </em>
</p><p>Catra’s hand flies to her own mouth in shock. Her fingers tremble against her face and the rush of her heartbeat deafens her. It thuds, loud and painful, and she looks back down at Adora to make sure that she hasn’t woken her up.</p><p>Adora’s eyes twitch, but she gives no allusion to being awake. Instead, Adora rolls over towards Catra’s direction and her hand reaches up the mattress to splay long fingers out across the bunch of sheets near her knee.</p><p>She prays to the same God that threw Adora into her life that she doesn’t remember the kiss.</p><p>It would be one thing if she knew that Adora felt the same about her- she can’t help the gnawing thought that something last night told her that she <em> does- </em> but right now, it’s too much.</p><p>She doesn’t remember what happened last night besides the kiss, and it’s <em> way </em> too fucking much. It’s more than enough to make her stand gingerly but quickly from the bed, grab her phone from her charger, and sling her backpack over her shoulder in one quick movement. Regret coils around her stomach, and guilt eats away at her body.</p><p>She should have known better than to drink that much, especially given the fact that she is painfully aware of how much she wants Adora. She wants nothing more than to ask her how she feels, to stay until Adora blinks awake and asks what time it is, to kiss her again and again and again-</p><p>Now, though, she knows better.</p><p><em> You foolish child, </em> her mother’s voice says to her, and Catra’s jaw clenches.</p><p>The time on her lockscreen reads <em> ‘6:39 A.M’</em>, and she lets out a relieved sigh at the prospect that nobody will be awake when she slips out. She opens the door, turning the handle slowly, and she bites back the bile that floods her mouth when the hinges creak loudly as she opens the door. She spares a quick glance behind her, and she steadies herself when she sees that Adora hasn’t moved.</p><p>She glides out of the doorway, just open enough to fit her small frame, and pushes the door back to rest gently against the lock to avoid any more noise. Maybe if she makes it out without waking anyone up, she’ll be able to collect herself and-</p><p>“Catra?”</p><p>Catra freezes and whips her head around to see Glimmer, halfway out of her room, clad in gym clothes. She looks bored, but not surprised- like she had been expecting Catra to be here in the morning.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” she asks, and Catra knows that it’s just a formality. But the nervous drum of her heartbeat picks up at being caught, and she falters with words for just a moment.</p><p>“I’m leaving,” she manages to spit out, raising her defenses. She’s not in the mood for this, not in the mood for <em> anything,</em> and Glimmer Moon is the last person on Earth she wants to talk to right now. She’s not in a place to take any judgement.</p><p>Instead, though, Glimmer just nods. “Okay. There’s Pedialyte in the fridge, if Adora needs it. Or… you know. If you want some. There’s plenty.”</p><p>She’s being uncharacteristically nice to her. She hasn’t made a dig at her, she’s not glaring at her, and she doesn’t look angry. She’s offering Catra an olive branch, and it might be miniscule, but it’s there. Catra sees that it’s there.</p><p>“Uh,” Catra starts, and she doesn’t know where she even wants to stop. “Look, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I don’t need any. I just want to know if Adora has practice this morning. If she has somewhere to be. I can wake her up.”</p><p>Glimmer shakes her head at her and purses her lips. “No, she doesn’t have practice today. Coach Razz makes her take more off days than the rest of us because she shows up to practice hours before it even starts and leaves hours after. I have to go, though. Just let her sleep in. She probably needs it, honestly. Adora doesn’t drink much.”</p><p>Catra forces herself to snort at that, lying through gritted teeth. “Yeah, no fucking kidding. She was gone, like, four shots in.”</p><p>Glimmer throws her head back and chuckles, but there’s a sad tone to her voice, the echo of something painful.</p><p>Catra suddenly comprehends that material years of friendship, anger, and betrayal are staring right at her with pink hair and soccer cleats. </p><p>If she doesn’t ask now, she knows that she never will. At this point, she has nothing left to lose.</p><p>Catra swallows what’s left of her pride, and then she swallows her tongue. “Glimmer,” she starts, and she doesn’t miss how Glimmer’s eyes go wide at the use of her actual name. “I’m…” </p><p>She lets herself trail off again, because this conversation has been inevitable for years, and she’s tried to avoid it for so long, but she’s curious and she’s full of guilt from last night and she needs to know <em> why </em> Glimmer did what she did. Maybe, <em> maybe</em>, it’ll help ease the old ache of her heart that’s quickly being consumed by a newer one.</p><p>Glimmer raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”</p><p>But she can’t. She’s too vulnerable right now, too visible, too <em> seen</em>. She wants to ask her, <em> What the fuck did I do to make you hate me so much? Why did you just start treating me like that? Why the fuck have I never been good enough for anyone? Is it me? </em></p><p>“How many Pedialytes are enough for Adora?” she asks instead, and Glimmer’s shoulders relax, just barely. Her eyes, in contrast, narrow.</p><p>“Two, at least. You know that she has the metabolism of a teenage boy.” Glimmer’s voice is soft but clipped, and she brushes past Catra on her way towards the front door. “Just put them on her nightstand, I guess. She’s usually pretty good about taking care of herself.”</p><p><em> But she’s not, </em> Catra wants to say. <em> She’s not good at it. She’s just tricked all of you into thinking that she is. </em></p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>The front door closes with a small click.</p><p>Catra lets herself breathe for just a moment, trying to steel her remaining nerves from her interaction with Glimmer and the nerves that creep into her chest at the thought of going back into Adora’s room.</p><p>The welcome feeling of sobriety helps her make her decision. She walks to the fridge, opens it as quietly as possible, grabs three bottles of Pedialyte, and walks right out of the front door. She doesn’t care that it slams behind her.</p><p>
  <em> That stupid fucking tree. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so ummm idk how to add links in here BUT</p><p>here is some gorgeous art that was made of Adora in her suit!! the artist captured it perfectly and made it so good and i’m still so FLOORED at this!! ❤️</p><p>LIKE &amp; REBLOG</p><p>https://le-skye.tumblr.com/post/624617693236035584/fanart-for-and-i-bloom-right-into-you-chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. purple & passion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Catra grieves, Scorpia pushes her, Glimmer is an unexpected voice of reason, and purple is not a color that suits Adora.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>enjoy this chapter bc these bitches are abt to independently get on the struggle bus fr!</p><p>tumblr: @yangaf</p><p>(if there are any formatting errors i’ll be checking tomorrow for them- i’m posting this from my phone bc my laptop charger broke LOL)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Catra doesn’t go to their Humanities class that week.</p><p>Or the week after.</p><p>She doesn’t go to Starbucks, or the library, or anywhere that she thinks she might run into Adora at.</p><p>Two weeks of unbearably rough silence lag by, and besides the bags under her eyes and the anxiety that gnaws at her, Catra thinks that she might be doing pretty well for herself.</p><p>Scorpia, however, has different ideas about the matter.</p><p><em> “C’mon, Wildcat,</em>” she says over the speakers of her car. Catra’s phone is settled on her thigh as she focuses on the road, and she’s grateful that Scorpia can’t see her rolling her eyes. <em> “Girl, I love you, but this is sad. Like, Quasimodo dying sad.” </em></p><p>“The fuck is Quasimodo?”</p><p>
  <em> “... Oh, you poor, sheltered child. Anyway, please just think about what I said.” </em>
</p><p>“Dude, I will.”</p><p>She absolutely won’t.</p><p>
  <em> “I’m serious! Meditating with Perfuma could be a really good way to help yourself get a better handle on your emotions. And, you’re, um. Pretty emotional right now.” </em>
</p><p>“I am not-“</p><p>
  <em> “You FaceTimed me to cry about a video of a bunny doing tricks on Twitter last night.” </em>
</p><p>“Okay, in my defense, he had prosthetic legs! It was fucking inspirational, or whatever!”</p><p>
  <em> “Mhm. Did it inspire you to, I don’t know, talk to Adora?” </em>
</p><p>“Please, Scorpia,” Catra begs. She doesn’t think she can handle another well-intentioned lecture right now. “Please, just let it go. I need to deal with this on my own.”</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t even know what happened, dude! You won’t tell me! Did you tell her how you feel and she said no? Or, like, did something else-“ </em>
</p><p>“Okay, I just made it to the parking garage, gotta go, bye!”</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, uh, b-“ </em>
</p><p>Her thumb slams onto the red button on her phone screen, and she relaxes into the newfound silence.</p><p>So, perhaps she’s not handling this as well as she thought she was.</p><p>Her feelings for Adora are still strong, quite possibly stronger due to the complete lack of interaction they’ve had in the past two weeks. She misses Adora, and the feeling is so viscerally painful that it aches inside of her chest with every breath she takes.</p><p>But she can’t bear the thought of talking to Adora about what happened, about the <em> kiss, </em>and the aspect of facing Adora’s rejection- or, even worse, her <em> anger- </em> terrifies her. </p><p>She knows she should have watched how much she was drinking. But every time she looked at Adora that night, no matter how much fun they were having, want and fear and confusion would swirl around her head in an unbearable trio. She thought that the alcohol would help, only to find that it would go on to ruin everything- their friendship, any chance she might have had with her, and any possibility of Adora not inevitably hating her.</p><p>Just like everyone else she’s ever cared about.</p><p>While she’s thankful for her two rarest exceptions, Scorpia and Entrapta, they’re not Adora. They don’t make her laugh like Adora can, they can’t shake down her walls like Adora can, they can’t lift her and <em> kiss her like Adora- </em></p><p>She shakes the thought from her head. She’s made her choice, and now, she has to live with it.</p><p>So, she continues to avoid anywhere Adora might be, anywhere she might be reminded of her, and any mention of her at all. Her heart freezes every time she opens the text message app in her phone and sees Adora’s name at the bottom of the screen. She ignores the YouTube notifications on her phone that say: <em> Things You Might Like Based On: ‘Adora Grayskull Winning Goal Compilation’. </em> She ignores pondering the <em> ‘what-ifs’ </em> and the <em> ‘maybe’s </em> and the <em> ‘why’s</em>. She ignores Scorpia and Entrapta’s pointed looks of concern.</p><p>She fights any and all intrusive thoughts about her smile, the freedom of her laugh, the subtle sadness of her eyes, coffee-fueled all-nighters at the library and insensitive TikTok compilations and anything similar to the blue shade of Adora’s eyes. Adora’s unexpected patience with her. Her kindness. Her understanding, her strength, and her softness.</p><p>She can’t face her. Not now, maybe not ever.</p><p>It takes Catra a moment to recognize that she’s about to drive past the practice soccer field on her way to her engineering lab. She’s uncharacteristically early, but she’s proud of herself despite it. </p><p>Her car weaves and turns down the street leading up to the field, and she purposely ignores <em> that damn tree </em> as it comes up on her right side.</p><p>Of course, the team is out practicing.</p><p>Of course, traffic forces her car to a stop near the field.</p><p>And, of course, her accidental view of Adora is crystal clear.</p><p>A soccer ball is being kicked up and down, being passed back and forth between the straight lines of players that face each other. Adora is standing the closest to the street, her head following the ball’s every movement.</p><p>And it’s moving <em> quick.</em> Catra can barely keep her focus on it, and when she manages to finally find it, the ball goes sailing- </p><p>- and collides violently with Adora’s nose.</p><p>Catra’s heart lurches into her throat as her stomach drops in a panic. She has half a mind to jump out of her car and run down to the field, but common sense keeps her seatbelt on and her door closed. She watches with her hand in a vice grip against the steering wheel.</p><p>Adora’s head snaps backwards and she almost falls to the ground, but she steadies herself at the last second. She bends down to lower her head in between her knees as she braces her hands on her thighs. Her teammates come running to her, shouting and yelling, but Adora raises a single hand into the air, and any movement stops immediately.</p><p>Catra catches sight of Glimmer inching closer to Adora from behind, her jaw moving with words that she can’t hear. Glimmer doesn’t look all too concerned, however, and it raises a pitiful feeling of hatred inside of her chest.</p><p>An old woman with long, purple hair hobbles into the middle of the field. When she reaches Adora, she places a hand gently on her shoulder and bends down to whisper something in her ear. Catra can see Adora’s head bobbing up and down, like she’s either talking Adora down or talking her up. Adora’s head finally raises, and Catra clenches her teeth together at the sight of blood, bright and red, dripping down Adora’s face.</p><p>Adora lifts a hand to gingerly wipe at the blood oozing from her nose, and she leans back a bit to examine it on her hand. Her chest is heaving, her eyebrows are furrowed, her hand is trembling, but her eyes look wide and confused from where Catra can see her. She lifts the hem of her shirt up to wipe at the blood. It seeps through her jersey, a jarring crimson against the gold and white of her uniform. </p><p>Something is very clearly wrong.</p><p>Her heart pounds with concern as she looks at Adora’s face. She looks confused and not at all mentally present, like her mind has drifted away from the impact of the ball. Someone moves closer towards her, and her demeanor switches abtuptly from dazed to defensive. Catra watches in mild horror as Adora’s face contorts violently, and then she’s rearing her fist back and charging towards her teammate.</p><p>Her other teammates nearly tackle her to the ground as they make a grab for her, pulling back on her arms and shoulders to stop her attack. The old woman hobbles towards Adora again, quicker this time, and she reaches up to touch Adora’s jaw- the side of her jaw with the set of jagged scars.</p><p>It’s almost unrealistic how quickly Adora seems to snap out of it. Her arm drops back down to her side, and the feral expression on her face drops with it. She looks guilty, almost, and she starts to nod along with whatever the old woman is saying to her.</p><p>A car blares its horn from behind her, but Catra couldn’t care less.</p><p>The old woman gently guides Adora away from the field by the shoulder, and Adora disappears on shaky legs from her view.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck was that? </em>
</p><p>Catra has never actually seen Adora angry, let alone violent. There isn’t a violent bone in her body. Something happened, or something came to her, and, unfortunately, Catra knows all too well what it feels like to lose control- even in the face of sobriety.</p><p>The car behind her honks its horn again, and Catra lifts a shaky hand to change gear of her car before finishing the rest of her drive to class.</p><p>She doesn’t really process parking in the garage and making her way into the lab room until a blur of purple and black appears in front of her.</p><p>“Catra!” Entrapta greets happily. “You’re on time today! That’s not really like you.”</p><p>Catra can’t care enough to do more than sneer at her. “Can it, ‘Trapta,” she hisses. Entrapta shrugs and takes the seat next to her.</p><p>“Something happened with Adora, I presume. You’re in an even worse mood today than usual.”</p><p>Catra’s head snaps up so violently that her neck cracks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”</p><p>Entrapta gives another shrug. “Scorpia’s been blowing up our groupchat about you ‘being emo’. You’re usually ‘emo’ because of your horrible mother, and she keeps saying that you and Adora aren’t speaking at the moment. So, what happened?”</p><p>Words die on Catra’s tongue. Entrapta is the very last person she had expected to confront her about this. The woman is straightforward, like she is, and usually not one to care much for social situations, like she is.</p><p>It’s like looking in a mirror, almost. A strange, weird, purple mirror.</p><p>“You want the story? I got drunk, I kissed her, I bailed before she could tell me how mad she was at me,” Catra grits out. Entrapta turns to raise an eyebrow at her.</p><p>“Exactly how mad is she?”</p><p>Catra’s the one to shrug this time. “Shit, I don’t know. Really fucking mad, probably.”</p><p>Entrapta hums. “You don’t actually know if she’s mad at you or not, do you?”</p><p>Catra’s brain comes to a screeching halt.</p><p>
  <em> Well. </em>
</p><p>Entrapta hums again. “Thought so. What did we talk about at the last Super Pal Trio wine night?”</p><p>Catra cringes at the name of their groupchat, even two full years later, but she gets where Entrapta’s point is going.</p><p>“To stop automatically assuming the worst in people because it diminishes my quality of life,” she mutters, and she lets her head fall to the table with a <em> thud. </em></p><p>“Exactly. Maybe try to work on that instead of wiping your ass with useful advice.”</p><p>Catra hisses at her. “Um, what the fuck-“</p><p>“Good afternoon, everyone!” their professor says through the microphone. “Hope you all finished your lab drafts. We’re starting on page ninety-seven of your manuals today.”</p><p>Catra can’t even bring herself to take it out of her bag. Her mind keeps fluttering back and forth between the kiss, and Adora, and the red stain of blood on her face.</p><p>The image of Adora’s nose dripping blood as her face twists into a foreign anger sears itself into the back of her eyelids. She decides to throw any and all caution remaining to the wind as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><em> look don’t fucking ask but i saw the ball hit adora  </em> <em> as i was driving by. just pls text me if she’s okay  </em> <em> later don’t be a fucking asshole about it i’m serious </em></p><p> </p><p><b>Glimmer </b> <strong>Moon: </strong></p><p><em> if it actually matters to you so much then </em> <em>  why don’t you fucking talk to her </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> lmfao what the fuck did i just say </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p><em> no what the fuck??? are u serious???  </em> <em> you ignore her for the past two  </em> <em> weeks and then all of a sudden u want to  </em> <em> act concerned for her? what the fuck </em></p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p><em> you and I may have our problems </em> <em> but adora is my friend and i care  </em> <em> about her, and i know she cares about you  </em> <em> for whatever goddamn reason, so what the  </em> <em> fuck happened </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> stay the fuck out of my business  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what the fuck it’s literally not your problem </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> oh my FUCKING god </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> you fucking like her oh my god  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how the fuck did i not put this together </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Catra blanches and her phone almost falls out of her hand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> BITCH WHAT HAPPENED </em>
</p><p>
  <em> TELL ME </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> the fuck you don’t even like me </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> k u got me there it’s true but i know you motherfucker so tell me what happened bc it concerns adora so it concerns me </em>
</p><p><br/>She curses herself mentally for forgetting that while she might hate Glimmer, she knows that the two of them have known each other long enough to pick apart their tells. Her thumbs move as her mind tries to reel itself in.</p><p> </p><p><em> just mind your fucking business and </em> <em> tell me if  </em> <em> she’s ok jesus fucking christ ur not her mom  </em> <em> or her sister or her fucking girlfriend so relax </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> u wish u were her girlfriend lmao</em>
</p><p><em>we’re talking about this later &amp;  </em> <em> ur not getting out of it. ok? </em></p><p> </p><p>She locks her phone screen and sits through the rest of the lab lecture, not caring about the way words blur and fade through her ears.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Scorpia and Entrapta corner her the very next day. </p><p>Literally.</p><p>She’s tucked herself into the corner booth of the run-down coffee-shop across campus. She’s fully aware of Adora’s addiction to caffeine, but they’ve never been to this spot, and it’s tucked in between the math building and the physics building.</p><p>She thinks it’s safe to say that Adora probably doesn’t even know this place exists.</p><p>“You’re like a little hermit crab hiding from the sun,” Scorpia observes as she approaches with Entrapta hot on her tail. “The sun, y’know, being Adora. Because she’s blonde.” </p><p>She pauses. “And because you like her.”</p><p>Catra rips an Airpod out of her ear, and Frank Ocean sings to her from centimeters away. “How did you fucking clowns find me? Leave me alone.”</p><p>Entrapta waves her phone at her. “Is the FindMyFriends app chopped liver?”</p><p>
  <em> The FindMyFriends- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Good fucking lord. </em>
</p><p>“I hate it here,” Catra whines, letting her body slink back against the booth. “I fucking hate it here.”</p><p>Entrapta clears her throat. “I mean, leaving is free of charge. Completely free.”</p><p>“No, no,” Scorpia stage whispers to her. “Like…” She waves her hands around in the air, gesturing vaguely to the space around them. “Like, <em> life</em>.”</p><p>“Oh. How does that meme go? No, Catra, don’t kill yourself, you’re so sexy.” Entrapta tacks on a half-squeak half-laugh as a <em> ‘hee-hee’</em>, and if Catra were in a better mood, she would laugh at the inadvertent Michael Jackson impression.</p><p>The two of them slide into the both on either side of Catra. “Okay, look. We love you. You’re our best friend. But, Catra, I mean, the sulking.. This is…”</p><p>“Your behavior is absolutely pathetic,” Entrapta supplies, and Scorpia’s eyes go wide.</p><p>“Okay!” She claps her hands together. “Wow! Little, uh, little blunt there. But, yes. She’s right. You’ve been sulking for two straight weeks over Adora because <em> you </em> won’t talk to <em> her? </em>Make it make sense, Wildcat. Make it make sense.”</p><p>Catra curls in on herself as dread’s iron grip pulls tighter on her stomach. “Guys, please. I don’t want to talk about this. It fucking sucks.”</p><p>“Well, if it helps, Entrapta told me what happened.”</p><p>Catra lifts a middle finger up at Entrapta without looking at her. “Fuck you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>“Anyway.” Scorpia clears her throat, and she suddenly looks sad. <em> That </em> grabs Catra’s attention.</p><p>“Catra, listen. Adora makes you happy. And, from what I saw at the date function, you make Adora happy, too. Like, super happy. She was smiling the entire time, and she didn’t take her eyes off of you for a second. You can’t just pretend that she’s mad at you for sharing your feelings with her because it’s easier for you. It’s not okay to live like that.”</p><p>A spark of hope crawls out of Catra’s heart, but still, fear comes to meet it. “I just- I was drunk, guys. I was super drunk. All I remember is kissing her, and I don’t know if I did or said anything before or after that. I’m, like- I’m fucking terrified. She hasn’t even texted me, either.”</p><p>Scorpia and Entrapta both nod solemnly, and Catra takes a moment to appreciate that these two actually took the effort to seek her out and try to help her.</p><p>She tries a different angle. “Look,” she starts softly. “Thank you guys for coming to check on me. Like, seriously. That was pretty nice of you. But I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? I think I need to figure out what’s going on with me before I solve the Adora situation.”</p><p>Scorpia nods. “Okay, yeah. For sure. Whatever you need okay? We lean on each other. That’s how this whole friendship biz works.”</p><p>Catra smiles shakily. “Thanks, Scorp. Thank you, ‘Trapta.”</p><p>“I didn’t do much. I drove here, though.”</p><p>Catra huffs out a laugh. “Well, thank you for that, too.”</p><p>“Actually,” Scorpia says. “I’ve got a fun question for you, Wildcat.”</p><p>She raises an eyebrow at her. “You gonna ask me to film yourself doing the cinnamon challenge again?”</p><p>“Okay, no. But, now that we’re speaking on it, my TikTok did get thirty-two thousand-“</p><p>“I had to drive you to the hospital.”</p><p>“I-“</p><p>“You have a cinnamon allergy.”</p><p>“You wanna come to the pool with us and Perfuma tomorrow?” she asks before Catra can relive her failures. “It’s gonna be sunny for the first time in days.”</p><p>“Fuck it, sure,” Catra agrees. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do.” </p><p>And it’s true- if she listens to <em> Blond </em> one more time, she might go crazy.</p><p>Scorpia clears her throat. “Um, well. So. Mermista actually invited Perfuma to tan out by her apartment’s pool tomorrow, who invited me, who’s invited Entrapta and is also inviting you. Right now. Is what I’m doing.”</p><p>Catra blinks at her. “Did you fail English in high school? I already said yes.”</p><p>Scorpia grimaces and reaches up to fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Yeah, no- I got that. Got it. It’s just, y’know. Mermista’s on the soccer team.”</p><p>A flare of discomfort spreads through Catra at the mention of anything related to Adora. “So?” she huffs.</p><p>“All of the, um, soccer players live in the same complex. The one by the stadium. Which is also, uh, where Adora happens to live.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Scorpia,” Catra hisses defensively. “Seriously. It’s not like Adora even uses the pool, anyway. She burns too easily.”</p><p>“Of course you would know that,” Entrapta points out, and Catra narrows her eyes at her.</p><p>“I’ll break your fucking legs,” she threatens weakly, and a part of her means it.</p><p>Entrapta snorts. “Okay. Enjoy your felony.”</p><p>“Also, the pool might honestly be a good way to get away from the Adora situation,” Scorpia supplies, and Catra nods along in feigned agreement. </p><p>There’s really nothing that can distract her from it- she’s tried music, Netflix, Hulu, alcohol, weed, <em> more </em> alcohol, and terrorizing her sorority sisters. All to absolutely no avail.</p><p>“Maybe. Hopefully,” Catra corrects. Scorpia shrugs a shoulder at her.</p><p>“Eh, at this point, we’ll take what we can get. Also, are we changing our groupchat name to ‘The Adora Situation’? Because, Wildcat, at this point, <em> we’re all in this together.” </em></p><p>“You just said three things that I hate more than myself. I can’t even comprehend how the fuck you managed to do that.”</p><p>“So, that’s a yes to the groupchat name?”</p><p>“No, Scorp’. This is not a coined term. We aren’t trademarking ‘The Adora Situation’.”</p><p>“I don’t know, man. ‘The Adora Situation’ sounds like a cool secret mission name.”</p><p>“Will you stop <em> saying that?” </em></p><p>“Saying what? ‘The Adora Situation’?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, ‘The Adora Situation-‘“ </em>
</p><p>“Oh, is that what we’re calling it, now?”</p><p>Catra whips her head in the direction the voice comes from, and honestly, things could be worse for her. </p><p>Her mother could be standing at the table adjacent to them instead of Glimmer Moon and Bow Beauregard.</p><p>Glimmer sips lazily on an iced coffee, her expression bored, and Bow stares at the table over his sunglasses with wide eyes.</p><p>“Oh, my god, she <em> does </em> like her,” he whispers, and Glimmer and Catra both roll their eyes.</p><p>Scorpia shoots up from the table. “Well! This absolutely seems like a conversation that I want no part in. Let’s bounce, ‘Trapta.”</p><p>Entrapta stands from her seat, flashes the three of them a peace sign, and bounces after Scorpia. Glimmer and Bow both fill their empty seats next to Catra.</p><p>“What is this, ‘Torture Catra Day’?” she groans. Bow purses his lips and removes his sunglasses.</p><p>“No, but if that were a national holiday, I’d be celebrating it,” Glimmer shoots back easily.</p><p>“How the fuck did you even find me? You send me some ominous text and then decide to, what? Track my mobile IP address?”</p><p>“Actually,” Bow says hurriedly before Glimmer can speak. “This is our favorite coffee shop. My dads own it and the library above it. It’s just a coincidence, I swear.”</p><p>Catra blinks. “... Oh.”</p><p>“But now that we have you here, let’s get down to the million dollar question,” Glimmer says, and Catra glares at her.</p><p>“What the fuck happened between you and Adora?”</p><p>“Why is it any of your fucking business? She hasn’t told you?”</p><p>“Catra,” Bow starts with a strained voice. “She’s our best friend, and we love her. A lot. She’s really sad right now, and we want to hear what happened from your side, too. But, if I have to hear the <em> La La Land </em>soundtrack coming from her room one more time, I’m going to find a way to get her deported.”</p><p>Catra swallows thickly and exhales slowly. “I- You know what? Fine. I’ve been being fucking interrogated about this all day.”</p><p>Glimmer and Bow both raise the same eyebrow in her direction, and their synchronization almost intimidates her.</p><p>Almost. </p><p>“We went to the date function, I got drunk, I kissed her, and I left before she could yell at me about it. I’m not talking to her about it because I don’t want her to be mad at me, and she hasn’t texted me, either.” She lets the Airpod in her hand hit the table with an ungraceful smack. “You fucking happy?”</p><p>Nobody says anything for a moment.</p><p>Bow rises from his seat a bit too slowly. “Okay. Uh. I need an iced coffee for this. Do you want one, Catra?”</p><p>His open kindness briefly floors her. “Oh. Uh, caramel macchiato, if they have anything like that. I mean, if that’s cool.” Bow nods and sends her a small smile before sliding out of the booth.</p><p>And then, there were two.</p><p>“You’re even stupider than I remember,” Glimmer sighs. Catra snickers at her and crosses her arms.</p><p>“Watch how you talk to your class valedictorian, Miss <em> Salutatorian.</em>”</p><p>Glimmer’s mouth falls open and snaps shut in an awkward motion. “I can’t fucking stand you-“</p><p>“Feeling’s mutual, Sparkles.”</p><p>“- But,” she continues before taking a deep breath in. “I’m going to help you. So, shut up about it, and listen to what I’m about to tell you.”</p><p>Catra’s nose wrinkles in confusion. “Why the fuck would you help me?”</p><p>“Because I think I know what’s actually going on, and I hate seeing Adora upset. It’s like watching a kicked puppy limp around on a broken leg.”</p><p>Catra leans forward as her heart jumps into her throat. “So, tell me what’s actually going on, then. Don’t be shy.”</p><p>Glimmer sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, no. I’m a good friend, not a middle-man. What I was <em> going </em> to tell you is that you need to talk to Adora about what happened yourself. Trust me. She wants to talk about it. She wants to talk to <em> you.</em>”</p><p>The pull of guilt stabilizes Catra. “I don’t think so,” she mumbles.</p><p>“Do you live with her?”</p><p>“... No.”</p><p>“Have you talked to her in the past two weeks?”</p><p>“Okay, I get it-“</p><p>“No, you don’t get it,” Glimmer interrupts with a snark to her tone. “You don’t get it, Catra. You’re too deep in your own head and your head’s shoved too far up your ass for you to consider what other people actually feel when you do something stupid like this.”</p><p>The attack is unusually specific- unusually personal. </p><p>“... We’re not just talking about Adora, are we?”</p><p>It’s the wrong thing to say, apparently.</p><p>Glimmer’s hands shoot up to slam down on the table, only being stopped at the very last second. “Fuck you,” she spits, and Catra’s finally had <em> enough.</em></p><p>“I don’t know what I ever did to you to make you treat me like shit,” Catra starts, her voice low and choked with restraint. “Seriously. I really don’t know, but I’m fucking sick of this. We can’t have a conversation without you making some kind of comment about it, so spit it the fuck out.”</p><p>“Like you don’t know,” she fires back with anger hissing through her teeth. “You know exactly why I stopped being friends with you.”</p><p>Catra’s exasperated at this point. “No, I don’t know. I-“</p><p>Her pride tells her to stop, but the part of her that still hurts propels her forward.</p><p>“You were my best friend, Glimmer,” she says, her voice dropping low. “God, we were best friends. Going to your house used to be my favorite part of the week. And one day, I show up to school and you won’t even look at me. I just- I really don’t know what happened. Honestly. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, and it’s not like you ever gave me the chance to ask you.”</p><p>“So, then, tell me why I call your house one day and when Sharon Weaver picks up the phone, she says you told her you didn’t want to hang out with me anymore because you thought I was overbearing, annoying, and that you made up those rumors about me to get me to stop talking to you?”</p><p>
  <em> Of course she did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Of course her mother would do that. </em>
</p><p>“You-“ A painful laugh rips out of Catra’s throat, because of <em> course </em> her mother would do anything in her power to keep her under her thumb.</p><p>“You actually believed what that old bitch told you?” she asks with angry disbelief. “You actually believed that horrible fucking woman was telling you anything that was true?”</p><p>Glimmer has the decency to look mildly ashamed of herself. “I mean-“</p><p>“God, you don’t even know half of how she treated me. She hated Angella, she hated you, and she hates me. Manipulation is Sharon Weaver's entire <em> thing. </em>She’s fucking terrible. She does and says shit to get people to obey her, and as long as I was friends with you, I had a place to escape from her. That’s why she said that. It wasn’t true. She fucking lied to you.”</p><p>The tears Catra had been fighting back flood into her vision with a new force, and Glimmer seems to notice. She leans forward across the table and takes Catra’s hand into hers, and Catra tries not to flinch at the gesture.</p><p>“... Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Catra says quietly. “Oh.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Glimmer breathes, and Catra wants to believe her. It’s hard, though, after years after hate and anger. “I’m sorry, Catra. I- I’m sorry.”</p><p>All Catra can do is nod as she feels the anvil of anger start to lift from her chest.</p><p>“I- Shit,” Glimmer sniffs. “I know she was bad to you. Is she… Is she any better?”</p><p>“She’s worse, if you can believe it,” Catra chuckles dryly. She thinks about the twenty-nine unread text messages from her, sitting in her phone.</p><p>“I don’t think I really got how horrible she was,” Glimmer continues. “My mom never liked her, even when they did business, and she tried to shield me from her, in a way. But I always saw her, and I always saw you, and I just- I didn’t really know, Catra. I didn’t really get it.”</p><p>Catra shakes her head at her. “Stop. We were just kids. Don’t blame yourself for anything, alright?”</p><p>Glimmer shakes her head back at her. “You were an asshole afterwards,” says quietly. “I guess that kind of made me believe that it was true. Like, you didn’t even care to try and ask what happened.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s not like you ever tried to ask me about it, either. You were an asshole, too.”</p><p>“... We were both assholes, I guess.”</p><p>Catra barks out a gentle laugh at that. “Yeah. Guess so.”</p><p>“I don’t… Everything that happened after was so bad, Catra. It’s like- like we were enemies. You fired shots and I fired right back. And… I’m sorry for that.”</p><p>“I hated you because I thought you hated me.”</p><p>“I did the same thing.”</p><p>“Then, I guess I’m sorry, too. We’ve treated each other like shit for so long,” Catra mutters. Glimmer nods sadly.</p><p>“I know, but… I don’t want to do that anymore, okay? You’ve done some pretty horrible shit to me over the years. I’m not going to forget that. But…” Glimmer looks genuinely apologetic, and Catra can’t find her own voice.</p><p>“I’ve done some pretty horrible things back to you, too. I know that this isn’t really an end-all-be-all, but I don’t want to hate you anymore. Okay?”</p><p>Catra meets her eyes and lets a small hopefulness blossom inside of her. It’s a weak apology, a band-aid on a broken leg, but still. She’ll take any win that she can get at this point.</p><p>“Sounds good, Sparkles.”</p><p>Someone coughs from across from them. “Hey,” Bow’s voice says, dragging out the ‘y’. “Um… I got the goods!”</p><p>Bow sets a coffee in the middle of the table. Glimmer slides it towards Catra, and she realizes that the gesture is somewhat of a peace offering. Much like their interaction in the apartment, Glimmer is waving an olive branch right in front of Catra’s face.</p><p>This time, she’s smart enough to take it.</p><p>“Thanks, Glimmer,” she mutters, and the smile that Glimmer sends her in return is genuine and true.</p><p>“Hold on.”</p><p>The both of them turn to look at Bow, who looks floored.</p><p>“In the six minutes it took me to make coffee, you two just… worked out your stuff? Just like that? That’s it?”</p><p>Catra looks to Glimmer, who shrugs. “Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>“I cannot believe you bitches,” Bow breathes. “Like, wow. Wow.”</p><p>He flops back down into his seat and rests his chin against his palm. “Okay, back to the serious business.”</p><p>Glimmer nods, and Catra’s weary of the gleam in her eye. “Let’s talk more about ‘The Adora Situation’.”</p><p>Catra groans. “Can we not call it that?”</p><p>“Sorry, bitch. We’re trademarking it. So,” Glimmer continues. “You know how we both just worked through our shit in under ten minutes?”</p><p>Catra nods weakly.</p><p>“I’m not even kidding when I say that’s all you need to do with Adora. Just- Just <em> talk </em> to her, Catra. Stop shutting her out. It’s killing her. She cares a lot about you-“</p><p>“A lot,” Bow emphasizes around his straw.</p><p>“- and if you and I can do it, then you two can, too.”</p><p>Catra mulls this over for a second. “So. Let’s say, you know, for example, that I… like Adora.”</p><p>“Which you do,” Bow adds unhelpfully. Her coffee is delicious, though, so she lets it slide.</p><p>“What the hell happens if I come clean to her about how I feel, and she doesn’t feel the same way? She gets mad at me and about the fact that I kissed her with basically no warning.” Catra tenses at her own words as her fingers reach down to play with the fringed knee of her jeans.</p><p>Glimmer and Bow share an ambiguous look. “You’re going to have to figure that out yourself, dude,” Bow says carefully.</p><p>Catra’s stomach sinks as the realization dawns on her. “You two know if she does or not, don’t you?”</p><p>The pair shares another blatant look.</p><p>“Stop that. It’s weird.”</p><p>“We have to go to our political science lecture,” Bow announces as he stands. Glimmer follows his lead. “Seriously, Catra. Talk to Adora, please, and just be honest with her. Tell her everything and listen to what she has to say.”</p><p>Glimmer slips her hand into Bow’s, offers her a small smile, and the pair makes their way towards the front door of the cafe.</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>Catra’s mouth moves before her mind can catch up to her. “What happened on the field yesterday? With Adora?” she asks Glimmer.</p><p>Glimmer shrugs nonchalantly. “She just took a bad hit and went all ‘She-Ra’, I guess. It happens sometimes when she gets super pissed. Honestly, it’s nothing to worry about. Her nose didn’t break, but it got dislocated, and she insisted on setting it herself. She looks like shit because it’s all purple and bruised, but she’s fine.”</p><p>Catra knows that everything that Glimmer says is obtusely incorrect. That wasn’t a ‘She-Ra’ moment- videos and interviews and match footage tells her that She-Ra is calm, cool, and fierce in the face of adversity on the field.</p><p>Adora’s anger and violent pain on the field was just that- it was <em> Adora.</em></p><p>Glimmer’s wrong, and from the story that she gives, Catra knows that her words are coming straight from Adora’s sorry excuse for an explanation to her behavior.</p><p>“Okay. I just wanted to make sure. Thanks,” Catra mutters at the pair. They flash matching smiles at her and exit the café.</p><p>She can’t help but think that Glimmer’s purposeful vagueness on ‘The Adora Situation’ is meant to intentionally mislead her- to be the <em> real </em> end of the war that they had just called a truce on. </p><p>She bites down her insecurities, shoves her Airpods back in, and listens to what Frank Ocean has to say.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s unbearably hot.</p><p>The sun’s heat screams down at Catra, and she’s grateful that she double-lathered on her sunblock.</p><p>Scorpia and Entrapta lead the way up to the pool at the apartment complex. When they enter through the gate, she spots Mermista and Perfuma spread out on their respective lounge chairs.</p><p>Some guy is juggling tennis balls at the other end of the pool.</p><p>“Hey, bitches,” Mermista shouts to them as she waves them over. “I brought a cooler of leftover drinks from the bar.”</p><p>The juggling man looks up and waves at them as if he knows them.</p><p>“Do you know him?” Catra asks with a small grimace as she points to the man. Mermista groans before walking over to link her arm with his.</p><p>“This is my boyfriend, C.J,” Mermista supplies, and she visibly shudders over the word ‘boyfriend’. “Ceej, this is Catra.”</p><p>C.J has a pirate mustache, a farmer’s tan, and a stained bandana wrapped around his forehead, Catra immediately decides that she hates him.</p><p>“Carlos James Hawkins,” he says with a flourish, bending down to bow at her. Catra briefly thinks about whether or not the <em> ‘click lock button five times to dial 911’ </em> feature on her phone is turned on.</p><p>“But you, Miss Catra, can call me-“</p><p>“Ceej, no-“</p><p>“Sea Hawk!”</p><p>Catra blinks at the man, who is currently flexing his limp biceps. “Why the fuck would I call you that?”</p><p>It’s like her question is the question he has been waiting to answer his entire life. “Wonderful question! The ‘C’ in ‘C.J’ sounds like ‘sea’, like the ocean sea, right? And ‘Hawk’ is just short for ‘Hawkins’. It’s perfect!”</p><p>Catra thinks she might be hallucinating this man. “Wow,” she sighs. “Might be the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. And I met Ben Shapiro once.”</p><p>“<em>Thank you,</em>” Mermista says under her breath, and C.J- <em> Sea Hawk? Whatever </em>- pouts at her.</p><p>“I supported you through your <em> Mer-Mysteries </em> phase, darling. Have a little respect,” he whines. Mermista rolls her eyes at him.</p><p>“Whatever. <em> Mer-Mysteries </em> is a staple true crime book saga. You work at a 7-11.”</p><p>Catra really can’t take any more of this. She finds the nearest beach chair and drapes her towel across the front of it. She sprawls herself out under the hot sun, squints under her sunglasses, and shoves both Airpods in her ear.</p><p>When the music starts to play, her mind eases along into it. The talk and bicker if voices around the pool fade out of her mind as she soaks in the sun’s rays.</p><p>When the pool finally grows quiet, she finally manages to find a moment of mental peace, only for it to be stripped away from her by a shadow that moves back and forth across her eyelids.</p><p>She cracks open one eye.</p><p>“I’m open!” Sea Hawk calls at Scorpia, and she pulls her arm back to send a football sailing at him. He catches it with ease and sends it right back.</p><p>“I need a fucking drink,” Catra announces to nobody, and she slips off of her lounge chair.</p><p>Catra slips behind Sea Hawk to reach the cooler on the table, and she’s dangerously aware of how close she’s standing to the edge of the deep-end of the pool.</p><p>“Are there any White Claws?” she asks Perfuma, who shrugs in response.</p><p>“I’m not sure. Sorry. I brought some home-brewed kava, though!”</p><p>“Of course you did,” Catra grumbles to herself. She digs until she finds a lone Corona seltzer. It’ll have to do.</p><p>She waits until the ball leaves Sea Hawk’s hands before she attempts to slip past him again.</p><p>Four things happen in a successive blur.</p><p>Scorpia turns away from Sea Hawk to shout, “Adora! Hey!” purposefully and loud enough for Catra to hear her.</p><p>Catra freezes in a panic right by the edge of the pool.</p><p>Sea Hawk yells at Scorpia, “Oh, shit, too far to the left-“</p><p>And then he crashes into Catra, sending her straight into the water.</p><p>The beer flies out of her hand and her head rings from the impact of his body against hers. She doesn’t have time to take a breath before she sinks below the surface, flailing and sputtering for air.</p><p><em> “WHAT THE HECK, HAWK! SHE CAN’T SWIM!” </em>someone’s muffled voice above the surface yells.</p><p>Her mind draws a terrifying blank. Panic crawls into her throat as she continues to thrash and fail to reach the surface.</p><p>
  <em> Calm down. Calm down. Stop moving. Think for a second. </em>
</p><p>But she can’t. Her lungs are burning and her vision is blurry and she’s always been terrified of water and she knew this was a bad idea, she knew-</p><p>Something splashes down into the water next to her.</p><p>Two strong arms wrap around Catra’s waist and heave her up, and she fights, at first, before her head starts to spin with lack of oxygen. She’s pulled up to the surface, and when she breaks, Catra takes a loud and shaky gulp of air and lets the burn of her lungs ground her.</p><p>Her eyes are blurred with water and tears, and her body trembles with adrenaline and fear. She shakes and shakes, trying to decipher whether she was underwater for just ten seconds or ten minutes. The arms tighten against her waist, and a hand moves upwards to cup the back of her shaking head.</p><p>When Catra looks down, Adora’s wide, concerned eyes meet her own. The bridge of her nose is purple and bruised, still healing from the accident, but her eyes are sharp and crystal blue. Blonde hair splays down her ponytail and into the water, shining under the heat of Etherian sun. Small drops of water freckle her eyelashes, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, and Catra has never wanted to kiss her so badly.</p><p>Instead, she chokes out, “Thanks.”</p><p>Anxiety comes to meet her anguish, and the two feelings pool viciously in the pit of her stomach. She’s been ignoring Adora on purpose, and Adora knows this.</p><p>Adora nods tersely and averts her gaze from her. She pulls Catra into a bridal hold before making her way to the steps of the pool. She lifts the both of them out of the water with ease and walks over to the nearest chair to set Catra down in it carefully.</p><p>“Give me a towel,” Adora snaps at Sea Hawk, and Catra has never heard her voice like that before.</p><p>He nods shakily before handing her the only clean towel on the table. Adora unfolds it, shakes it out, and lays it gingerly across Catra’s shaking shoulders. She welcomes the towel, like it’s some kind of security blanket, and she hates the way her body continues to tremble from reserved shock.</p><p>“I’m going back inside,” Adora says to nobody in particular. “Send her up if she wants a clean set of clothes. I might have something that fits her.”</p><p>And before Catra can say something to her, <em> anything </em> to her, she’s walking away and back towards the staircase of the building.</p><p>The poolside is silent for a handful of tense moments before Entrapta’s voice is ringing out, “Well, don’t just stand there like a wet cat. Go talk to her.”</p><p>Glimmer’s and Bow’s words embolden her, and this might be the chance that she needs.</p><p>Her feet carry her on shaky steps around the pool, up the stairs, and into the third floor’s hallway. Her short, curly hair sticks to the side of her head uncomfortably, and drips of cold water slide down her neck and spine. She stops directly in front of the door to Adora’s unit.</p><p>Catra steels her body and her mind, exhaling slowly and breathing in deeply. She raises a fist to the door and knocks once, twice.</p><p>She hears shuffling behind the door a few moments later before Adora’s emerges from behind the door. Her eyes are slightly puffy, her hair is down, and she’s holding an ice pack against her bruised nose.</p><p>“Hey,” she says softly, and Catra looks down at the floor.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“... Are you okay? Do you want another towel, or something? I probably have some clothes you c-”</p><p>“I want to talk. Um, to you. If that’s okay.” Catra rushes out before she can think twice about it. </p><p>Adora doesn’t react, at first. Her mouth snaps shut and she sighs, sad and slow. Then, she nods, and steps to the side to allow room for Catra.</p><p>“Okay,” Adora says. “Let’s talk.”</p><p>She follows Adora into her bedroom and sits beside her on the mattress. “Um, thanks again. For, you know. Getting me out.”</p><p>Adora shrugs. “Mermista texted me and asked if I could let her borrow my portable charger. It was just a coincidence.”</p><p>“... Right. I, uh, I have two things I want to talk about, okay?” Adora nods silently.</p><p>“The first thing’s about your nose.”</p><p>Adora jolts backwards defensively. “I don’t want to talk about th-“</p><p>“Shut up and listen to me for a second, okay? Please?” Adora nods after a moment and flexes her jaw.</p><p>“Look. I was driving by the practice field when you got hit. I… I saw what happened. And what happened afterwards.”</p><p>Adora’s face doesn’t change at her confession. Instead, she drops the ice pack and lets her face fall into her hands. “All of it?” she mumbles.</p><p>“Yeah,” Catra responds softly. “All of it. I- I just wanted to ask if you were okay. If something-“</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Adora cuts her off, her voice firm and sharp. Catra reels for a moment at the tone of her voice before deciding to try again.</p><p>“Adora, please,” she begs. “Just tell me what you were feeling. I know you well enough to know that you haven’t talked to anyone about it. C’mon.”</p><p>Adora stands abruptly from her spot on the bed. “You want to know what I was thinking?” she bites. “I was thinking that I felt like I was in that damn house all over again.”</p><p>Catra’s heart screeches to a stop. She knows the house Adora is referring to.</p><p>“He- he used to make the kids- he made us fight each other,” Adora stutters out, and Catra knows who Adora’s referring to now, too. “The losers had to sleep outside. Or, something worse. I don’t know.”</p><p>Adora turns to face her, and the bloodshot red of her eyes clashes sickeningly against the purple of her swollen nose.</p><p>“I had to win.”</p><p>“Oh,” she says softly. “Oh, Adora.”</p><p>“When I got better at <em> fútbol </em> at school, it helped me, I think. I could be on the same team as everyone. We could fight together and not against each other. But then, Starla kicked the ball wrong, and it was like I got punched in the face, and we were all fighting each other again.”</p><p>The cracks she’s always seen Adora try to hide from everyone crack a bit wider open as she begins to crumble right in front of her eyes. She takes in a stuttering breath and her fists curl against her sides.</p><p>“I just- I don’t know what came over me, Catra. I don’t. I thought therapy was helping, but-“</p><p>“Hey,” Catra interjects softly. She needs to stop Adora before she starts to spiral, and she knows all too well that that feels like. “No. Listen. Progress isn’t linear. It’s a fucking mess, okay? But it gets better. I’m… I’m still working on my own shit, too. You’re better, okay? You’re going to keep getting better. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”</p><p>Catra thinks about her defenses, her iron walls, the claws of her acrylic nails, and swallows dryly. </p><p>
  <em> Scorpia was right. </em>
</p><p>Adora takes another breath in, steadier, this time, and nods at her. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay. I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you,” she laughs painfully, and Catra’s heart twists in her chest.</p><p>“I mean, I asked,” she teases in a poor attempt to lighten the mood. “You can talk to me about this kind of shit, you know? You know you can.”</p><p>The irony of her words isn’t lost to her, and apparently, it’s not lost to Adora, either.</p><p>“I know,” she says. “I’ve really missed talking to you the past few weeks.”</p><p>Catra nods guiltily. “Yeah. Me too.”</p><p>Adora returns to sit back down next to her on the bed. “Is that what else you wanted to talk about?”</p><p>Catra’s voice gets stuck in her throat, so she nods. When she finds it, she forces it out of her.</p><p>“We kissed,” she mumbles, and the words bite her as they leave. Adora nods at her, her eyes sad.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Look, I… I don’t remember a lot of it. We were drunk. But we should talk-”</p><p>“I wasn’t.”</p><p>Catra’s freezes.</p><p>Adora’s looking at her with such unfiltered anguish that she wants nothing more than to reach forward and take it for herself to help her. Still, though, she knows she needs to let Adora speak.</p><p>“... Huh?”</p><p>“I wasn’t drunk,” Adora repeats. “I was sober. I was completely sober, actually. I just- I was drunk, and I don’t know why, but I just got sober really fast a few minutes before we left. I don’t know.”</p><p>Catra’s mouth is dry, and all over again, she feels like she’s hungover. “Uh, okay. So, you were sober, and I was drunk. And I kissed you when we got back to your room. I remember that much. And I know that you didn’t want to, and I pretty much flung myself at you, and I’m sorry. I… I regret it a whole fucking lot. I just- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Honestly. I woke up, and I remembered what happened, and I felt so fucking bad, Adora, and I avoided you because I knew that you were probably pissed at-”</p><p>“Catra, I <em> wanted </em> you to kiss me.”</p><p>Any words or thoughts that were floating around Catra’s head are immediately silenced.</p><p>“I just- I wanted to, Catra. That’s the problem. That’s the fucking problem. I wanted to, I-” She runs a hand through her hair roughly and drags it down her cheek.</p><p>Catra doesn’t think she can move right now. She feels like she’s trapped in some lucid dream, so torn up inside that she can’t handle the truth of those words.</p><p>
  <em> Adora wanted to kiss her? Adora actually wanted to kiss her? Does she actually feel the same way? </em>
</p><p>“I wanted you to kiss me, and I wanted to kiss you. I wanted it so badly. But you were drunk.”</p><p>The words don’t really make sense to Catra, and she’s still trying to make sense of what she’s feeling right now. But-</p><p>“I like you. A lot. And I wanted to kiss you all night. Before that, actually. For a long time,” Adora says, her voice soft. </p><p>Catra’s entire world tilts on its very axis. The realization slams into her, and she doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry.</p><p>Adora feels the same way about her.</p><p>The relief is the best thing she’s ever felt in her life, but the feeling that follows afterwards is new and fueled by an excited adrenaline.</p><p>Adora feels the same way about her, and she would crash her car over and over again if she had known it would lead to this.</p><p>As she tries to come back to reality, Catra realizes that Adora is still speaking.</p><p>“I wanted to keep kissing you so fucking badly, and I stopped because you were drunk. But I still did it, anyway, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took advantage of you. I’m-” Her voice cracks, and Catra’s heart drops when she notices the unshed tears in Adora’s eyes.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Catra. It was such a shitty thing to do to you, and I know you’ve been avoiding me because-”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Catra interjects, and she’s so relieved that she’s finally found her voice. This entire situation is so bizzare to the point that she might even find it funny, later.</p><p>“You- wait. You thought I was avoiding you because you kissed me back? Are you- are you serious?” Her voice trips over the words with an uncharacteristic tremble, but she has to get them out.</p><p>Adora’s head jerks back, and the look on her face goes from solemn to bewildered. “I- of course I did! I kissed you when you were drunk! You just told me that you barely remembered it! What kind of-”</p><p>“I kissed <em> you, </em>Adora!”</p><p>“I- I mean, we kissed each other? The point is, you were drunk, and you couldn’t give consent, and you didn’t know what was going on, and-”</p><p>She can’t take it anymore.</p><p>“I like you, you fucking idiot!”</p><p>The room goes completely silent.</p><p>“... That is not at all what I was expecting!” </p><p>And Adora is back- her awkward, flustered, <em> perfect </em> Adora.</p><p>“Oh, my god, Adora,” she laughs, nervous and flustered. “Don’t you get it? I like you! I always have!”</p><p>Adora blinks owlishly at her, and Catra laughs again at just how cute she looks when she’s confused.</p><p>“I… I really didn’t think you felt the same way,” Adora breathes as she continues to stare at her with wide eyes. Catra nods shakily, and this time, she welcomes the pleasurable thrill of nerves that pump through her body.</p><p>“I don’t think I could have been any more clear,” she mumbles, and Adora shakes her head frantically at her with blown eyes.</p><p>“I thought you were just drunk! Either that, or just being nice! I didn’t want to read into it!”</p><p>Catra’s mouth sputters open. “I thought <em> you </em> were just being nice when you said you’d go with me to the date function!”</p><p>“I thought <em> you </em> were just being nice when you asked me!”</p><p>“Fuck, we sound so stupid right now.”</p><p>“Catra, you and I both know that I’m not the smartest bulb- the- the brightest- in the lamp? What’s it called?”</p><p>“Fuck,” Catra says again, because she doesn’t even think she can form a coherent sentence right now. She laughs at the lapse in Adora’s English, and Adora joins in with her, and relief replaces the thick tension that was just in the room a moment ago.</p><p>“I’m still sorry for kissing you when you were drunk, though,” Adora says when their laughter subsides, and Catra huffs through a smile and watery eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, genius, maybe don’t do that again. I forgive you, though. I forgive you.”</p><p>“Do you think we could try again?” Adora asks softly, and Catra’s eyes snap up to meet hers. “Can we try again, sober this time? If you want to?”</p><p>And it’s all Catra has ever wanted.</p><p>It’s an opening, a <em> real </em> opening, and she takes it with everything that she has.</p><p>She doesn’t wait for Adora to react before she cups the back of her neck and pulls her down into her. She melts at the feel of Adora’s lips against her own, and this time, she knows for sure that she’ll remember what it feels like.</p><p>“Wow,” Adora mumbles against her lips, and Catra sighs as she moves to drape her arms across her shoulders.</p><p>“Don’t ruin it,” she mutters back before chasing after her lips.</p><p>Adora’s hands grip her hips to tug her impossibly closer, and a heat spikes somewhere inside of her. Adora meets her with just as much passion, just as much <em> want, </em>and it makes her dizzy with pleasure. Her lips are firm against her own as she moves with her, meeting her again and again. Her lips are soft, and Catra’s eyes almost roll into the back of her head when Adora’s mouth opens against her, hot and wanting.</p><p>Adora hisses in pain, suddenly. “Ow,” she mutters weakly, and <em> oh, shit. Her nose. </em></p><p>“Oh, fuck. I- sorry. You okay?” Catra breathes frantically to her, and Adora just lets out the cutest laugh she’s ever heard. For <em> her. </em></p><p>“Don’t worry about it. Come here.”</p><p>When Adora’s lips hers meet again, it's like she breathes life into her. The relief that floods through her is paired with the increasing thrum of heat that spreads deliciously through her veins as Adora pushes her gently against the wall behind her. Her lips are sweet and soft against her, intoxicating, and her head spins at the feeling of Adora against her.</p><p>She bites down gently on Catra’s bottom lip, and her hands fly to clench Adora’s broad shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. She knows she should feel embarrassed by the soft moan that slips out of her mouth, but she can’t bring herself to care.</p><p>Adora’s hands reach down to cup the back of her thighs, and she pulls her up, off of the ground, and into her arms. Catra loses her voice, just for a moment, and the only thing she can even think to do is wrap her legs around Adora’s strong, slim waist.</p><p>Adora’s strength has always done things to her. It’s given her thoughts that she has always been privately ashamed of thinking about. Now, she’s actually on the receiving end of her strength, held up against the wall by strong biceps and muscular shoulders.</p><p>It does <em> much </em> stronger things to her, she realizes as a jolt of electricity runs up her spine at the way Adora tilts her head. She slows their kiss, gently, and Catra’s overwhelmed by the ancitipation that consumes her. Adora presses soft lips against her bottom lip, the corner of her mouth, and she pulls away slightly to ghost her lips over Catra’s, parted and panting.</p><p>“You’re wet,” Adora mutters, and the words are enough to jarr her out of her hazy reverie. She pulls away from Adora in a mild panic and looks down at her, knowing full well that her eyes give away her nerves.</p><p>“I- how did you-” </p><p>But Adora removes one hand from beneath Catra to twirl a curl of her short hair, still dripping with pool water. She scoffs at Adora’s cocky smirk.</p><p>“Oh, did you think I meant something else?” she teases, and Catra should feel annoyed, but it’s <em> Adora </em> below her, who’s holding her up with just one arm.</p><p>“I hate you,” she mumbles, but she feels herself blush. Adora smirks and leans closer towards Catra’s mouth.</p><p>“You <em> like </em> me,” she teases, and she <em> does </em> . She likes her so, <em> so </em> much.</p><p>“Whatever. Kiss me again.”</p><p>Adora collides beautifully into her, and for the first time in her life, Catra’s jagged pieces finally fall into place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. desires & defenses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All too quick, Adora becomes the sunlight that lets Catra bloom. It's a painful but grounding feeling when Catra realizes that Adora- as bright as she is- needs sunlight, too.</p><p>In which Catra is entirely too desperate for relief, and everyone forgets that Adora is a lot sharper than she makes herself out to be.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YALL READ THIS BEFORE U START THE CHAPTER:</p><p>READ THE ENTIRE CHAPTER AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE NON-DIALOGUE PARTS! IT’S VERY IMPORTANT FOR CHAPTERS 7-10/11.</p><p>I get into the bad habit of skimming over paragraphs without dialogue when i’m not super interested in the fic, WHOOPS, but this chapter and the Adora Chapter (chapter 7) have a LOT of non-dialogue parts that are really going to REQUIRE YOUR ATTENTION to be understood. </p><p>i’m doing my best to parallel, in the most realistic way, the problems that catradora faces in the actual series. the miscommunication issues, the misunderstanding of the others’ feelings, the defense mechanisms, and the ultimate conclusion.</p><p>after the adora chapter, i PROMISE chapter 8 will be 100% fluff and most likely some Nice Realizations for catra. pls hold me to that.</p><p>I CHANGED MY TUMBLR URL!!!! FOLLOW ME @riotdisciple</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>^^^^ READ THAT I KNOW YALL FUCKING SKIPPED IT</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their new ‘thing’, unbounded by any daunting official title, starts exactly the same way their friendship did. </p><p>Four hours after their first <em> real </em> kiss, unbarred by alcohol and hidden feelings, Catra is lying face-up in her bed in Kappa Delta’s house. Her mind is hazily drifting back and forth between a goofy smile, soft lips, a purple nose, and kind blue eyes. </p><p>A TikTok notification pulls her attention away from Adora, only to immediately zone back in on the thought of her.</p><p>The TikTok Adora sends her is hysterical in a niche sort of way, and it makes Catra cackle in the lonely privacy of her room. The video loops again, and <em> ‘Can I get back to beating this bitch’s ass for dipping her titties in my macaroni?’ </em> rings out from her phone as Catra bites back another laugh. It’s quite funny on its own, really, how much Adora can affect her without even being in the same room as her. </p><p>This ‘thing’ is new, and its flame will grow slowly. Catra takes both comfort in it and sits anxiously on the edge of her seat over it.</p><p>All things considered, day one has started almost unbelievably smoothly. </p><p>There’s just one problem with its impending slowness, though.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Two weeks later, and Catra’s face is squished into Adora’s shoulder as they sit as close as physically possible to each other in a booth at Benihana.</p><p>“You know,” Adora starts, and she’s already smiling without even looking up from her menu. “You would have more room for the food and menu if you sit across from me.”</p><p>“That’s spot’s right under a vent, genius,” Catra huffs back, pressing her cheek further into Adora’s deltoid. “It’s cold. I don’t fuck with the cold.”</p><p>It’s a sorry excuse for wanting to be pressed against Adora’s warm, strong body. Then again, it’s been a long day without her, Adora having been stuck at practice for hours in strategy preparation for the upcoming qualifier tournaments. Catra gives herself a pass.</p><p>“Maybe, I’m getting hot over here. You’re kind of like a tiny human blanket.”</p><p>“I’m not that tiny.”</p><p>“Blankets don’t talk. They didn’t in Spain, at least. I’m still going through a learning curve.”</p><p>“You can thank shitty American education for that,” Catra quips. She presses her index finger onto the name of an item on the menu, and finally- <em> finally- </em> Adora looks down at her.</p><p>“That one’s good?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Catra nods, and her cheek rubs up and down against Adora’s skin.</p><p>“It’s crack,” Catra confirms. Adora snorts out of laughter, and Catra’s veins fill with electricity at the sound.</p><p>“I know what that means, now. Not the actual drug- well, the drug too. But, um, the analogy.” Catra finally removes her cheek from Adora’s shoulder to pat it heartily.</p><p>“Next, we’ll work on what ‘glizzy’ means. I’m proud. Don’t do drugs.”</p><p>“Is ‘glizzy’ a drug?” Before Catra can respond, Adora twists to the side to grab her red and white letterman jacket from the space next to her. She drapes it gently across Catra’s shoulders, who fights against the rising blush as hard as she can.</p><p>“There,” Adora smirks, her expression soft but victorious. “Now, you won’t be cold, and you’ll actually sit up to eat. I’ve never used chopsticks before, and I think I’m going to need both arms to do it.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Catra mumbles. Adora’s jacket is soft and worn, and it smells faintly of sandalwood. She pulls it, as subtle as she can, tighter against her shoulders and leans back down onto Adora’s shoulder.</p><p>“That’s a weird way to say ‘thank you’.”</p><p>“If you want me to move, I will.”</p><p>“If I wanted you to move, I would have told you.” Adora glances back down at her and raises her eyebrow again. This time, it’s a playful challenge. Catra bites down the smile that graces her lips, and instead, feigns a grimace.</p><p>“Just tell me you only like me because I’m a tiny blanket, or whatever.”</p><p>“You told me I look like the ‘Boss Baby’ on steroids, and I don’t know who that is. I think it’s only fair.”</p><p>Catra’s cut off by their waitress approaching the table and asking if they’ve decided on their orders yet. Catra gives her order with ease, while Adora’s mouth stumbles over the word ‘yakisoba’.</p><p>At some point, when the waitress is asking about sauces, Adora’s hand finds Catra’s knee. Everything comes to a screeching halt.</p><p>Her hand is warm, and it’s big, but it’s nowhere near anywhere remotely scandalous. Her hand is simply resting on Catra’s knee, her thumb swiping idle strokes across bare skin, and Catra has to fight the urge to cross her legs like her life depends on it.</p><p>In a way, it does. If she’s outed for having no control of herself in a fucking <em> Benihana </em> of all places, she’ll move across the country and dig her own grave.</p><p>“Dude. I don’t know what eel sauce is.”</p><p>Adora’s voice snaps her back to reality, and she swallows dryly. “Two, uh, thingies of eel sauce. If you have low-sodium soy, that, too. Uh, thanks.”</p><p>The waitress nods, satisfied, and leaves. Adora looks down at her with furrowed eyebrows.</p><p>“Do you not like eel sauce?” she asks, and Catra almost face-palms.</p><p>“I- no. Honestly? I fucking love it.”</p><p>“Then, what’s wrong?”</p><p>She could choke Adora for being so aloof yet so caring at the same time. “It’s nothing. Seriously. I’m just a little tired, is all.” </p><p>Adora nods, satisfied with the answer, and removes her hand from Catra’s knee. Catra is thankful for the momentary peace and aching for the touch as soon as it’s gone. Adora’s hand comes up to the back of Catra’s head, and she gently pushes and pulls against the skin on the base of her skull, letting blunt nails drag gently across her scalp.</p><p>Catra’s eyes flutter briefly at the sensation. It’s something Adora’s started doing recently, when Catra voices her stress or exhaustion. Whether it be in the library or at breakfast or even just curled up on Adora’s bed watching Netflix, Adora is never too far from her to comfort her.</p><p>“I haven’t seen you eat all day,” Adora says quietly to her. “If you’re not feeling better after dinner, do you just want to go back to my apartment? Watch <em> All American? </em> Glimmer won’t be there, I don’t think. We don’t have to go to the show.”</p><p>“As much as I would rather be doing that, Scorpia’s in that damn theatre troupe with D.T,” Catra manages to grit out through the pleasure rolling down her spine. “If I don’t go, it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”</p><p>“Please eat something,” Adora says, agreeable. She bends down to press a kiss just behind Catra’s ear, and while she knows that the gesture is meant to be comforting, Adora’s lips and breath so close to her ear turns the pleasure going down her spine white-hot.</p><p>It should be alarming- and it is, mildly- how quickly Adora is adapting to her. Adora has slowly started to learn all of Catra’s ticks, and Catra’s picked up on quite a few of Adora’s. She bites her nails when she’s anxious. She tightens her ponytail when she’s stressed. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth or sticks her tongue out to the side when she’s focused.</p><p>They’re learning each other, Catra knows, slowly but surely. The development is heart-achingly beautiful and harrowing all at the same time.</p><p>They’ve started going on more dates- meeting for breakfast or Adora insisting that she pick Catra up before class to take her to Starbucks. Catra forced Adora to sit through almost all of <em> Schitt’s Creek </em> last weekend, when they were both gifted with two consecutive days of rest. They spent both days practically glued to each other’s side, and when Adora left once to pick up another pizza, it was a pathetic fifteen minutes for Catra’s pride. </p><p>Adora buys her sour gummy worms when she’s having a bad day, and Catra buys her an entire gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream when she has a late night followed by an early-morning practice. She swings by the practice field every now and again to pick Adora up so they can flit around the college town, and she arrives fifteen minutes before practice ends to watch Adora play under the guise of ‘securing a parking spot’.</p><p>Adora’s attentiveness to Catra has only grown since their first <em> real </em> kiss, and the attention is still taking a bit of getting used to. Their relationship is deepening, even in the second week of this ‘thing’ that they have going. Adora is her best friend, and now, she’s <em> more. </em></p><p>Catra meets Adora’s eyes, and Adora smiles softly at her. She slides her hand from the base of her head to the base of her neck, and she drags her fingers gently across the skin there in another sign of affection.</p><p>Adora means well, in a very wholesome way. Catra almost feels bad for letting herself get the urge to cross her legs again.</p><p>That one problem with slowness is starting to rear its head, but when Catra can’t help but smile back at Adora, she decides to let it go for right now.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>One month into their ‘thing’, and the problem had worsened to the point of no return. Catra digs her acrylics into her palm when she catches sight of Adora, sweaty and shirtless, bounding over to her happily.</p><p>“Hey,” Adora mutters into her hair. “I’m hungry.”</p><p>“You’re always hungry, Adora,” Catra quips back, leaning into her chest. Adora pulls away and pouts cutely down at her.</p><p>“I’m a growing girl!” she whines, but she’s grinning, and Catra thinks that the sunlight beaming down on her does everything to illuminate her smile.</p><p>“If you’re not done growing at six feet, I’m worried about your ability to walk through doors. Also, you smell like shit.” Adora smells like sandalwood, grass, and adrenaline. It’s intoxicating.</p><p>Adora’s jaw drops and her eyes widen almost comically. “Well, excuse me for, you know, being an athlete! It’s not like you had to come!”</p><p>But Catra waves a hand at her, feigning aloofness, and lets her eyes flicker down to Adora’s completely exposed abdomen.</p><p>“No,” Catra sighs, distractedly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for literally anything.”</p><p>The grass on the practice field is freshly cut, and the smell overwhelms her if she breathes in too hard. Vaguely, she worries about staining her Lululemons, and her nails are freshly done, so she shifts and shimmies around on the cleanest part of the bleachers she can find. </p><p>She’s thankful, though, that even in the burning light of afternoon, her Ray Bans block the sun just enough to allow her to focus on a very tall, very muscular, very sweaty Adora.</p><p>They had laid in Adora’s bed for hours after their first <em> real </em> kiss, lacing their fingers together and whispering nothings and everythings in their makeshift sanctuary of trust. It had been <em> all too much </em> and <em> not enough </em> wrapped up into a comforter that smells like baby powder and the gleam in Adora’s eye when she looks at her.</p><p>It was almost juvenile, the way that they curled into each other. Like there was a big secret that the two of them shared, and they would get into trouble if anyone found out. Like there was something only they knew- <em> only they understood about each other</em>- that could make or break either of them with a single word.</p><p>Adora understands Catra- this, she knows so violently clearly at this point. Catra likes to think that she understands Adora just as well, too. </p><p>It’s easier now, not because she wants to, but because now, she <em> can. </em></p><p><em> “So, what now?” </em> Catra had asked, breathless, after they finally pulled away from each other in her room. “ <em> Where do you want to go from here?” </em></p><p><em> “I don’t care,” </em> Adora replied, her eyes flickering up to Adora’s own. “ <em> I don’t care what we do, as long as we go forward.” </em></p><p><em> “Okay,” </em> she remembers breathing back to her. “ <em> Can we just… can we just go slow for right now, then?” </em></p><p>So, the whole ‘girlfriend’ talk didn’t happen that afternoon, and it hasn’t happened at all yet. It’s been about a month with no conversation of the sort. In a way, Catra is grateful for it.</p><p>It’s not that she doesn’t want Adora to be her girlfriend, to be <em> hers- </em> it’s quite the opposite. Using the label makes it official, makes it real, and makes it a stake that can’t afford to be raised. It makes it vulnerable, more painful, and it gives Catra something more to lose.</p><p>Catra can’t lose Adora. Not when she almost has her.</p><p>Being Adora’s girlfriend means obligations and promises that she’s either too scared to keep or not enough to keep. Being Adora’s girlfriend means expectations, changes, and compromises that she doesn’t think she’s equipped to take on.</p><p>Being Adora’s girlfriend means not letting her down. </p><p>Catra doesn’t think she’ll be capable of doing that anytime soon. Adora may be too much for her, deliciously so, but she’s not enough for Adora. Not even close.</p><p>In the privacy of her own mind, however, Adora is <em> her </em> girlfriend, the label a small but distrusting comfort. She treats Catra as such- she holds her hand when they walk to class, she texts her bizarre memes, she blushes when Catra calls her ‘babe’. </p><p>She kisses Catra like she’s trying to find the sun in her, but Catra knows that she’ll never find any. She won’t tell Adora, though, for the sake of having her keep kissing her like that. </p><p>In retrospect, Catra vaguely acknowledges that <em> now, </em> their relationship is moving somewhat fast. She steps into Adora’s room most nights, now, making an effort to ignore Glimmer, and revels in the relief that Adora’s arms bring her. Adora presses kisses to her hair and her forehead, and it’s the most beautiful clarity that Catra has felt in years.</p><p>Adora’s affection and attention to her is both scary and the most peaceful thing she has ever experienced.</p><p>When they kiss, though, something more untamed stirs inside of her. Catra’s smart enough to know the name of it.</p><p>It’s stirring now, even, as she watches Adora jog back to the practice session on the field that she casually invited her to watch. Adora has no business looking as stunning as she does, truly, with tiny shorts and a tight sports bra on. Her body is glistening with a light sheen of sweat, her toned and hard muscles are shining on display, and her dark blonde hair is curling cutely against her temples from the humidity.</p><p>“We’ll be finished in thirty, I promise!” Adora calls to her, her smile white and bright.</p><p>“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago!” Catra calls back, her voice cracking. Adora just laughs, though. Her thighs flex as she bounces back and forth on her heels as her eyes watch the ball zip around the other end of the field.</p><p>Catra unconsciously squeezes her thighs a bit tighter, dreading the fact that the feeling will only grow worse.</p><p>Last month’s problem has reared its ugly head to become today’s burden to bear. </p><p>There’s another thirty minutes of the session left, and as the sun beats down on her furiously, the only thing on her mind is figuring out how she’s going to brave watching Adora run around the field when she’s <em> too horny to stand it. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Duolingo finds a home on her phone a week later, tucked away behind apps in the least suspicious folder she can find.</p><p>The actual jolt of her phone pulls her away from the litany of numbers scattered across her laptop’s screen. Her engineering lab project is far from complete, and with Entrapta as her table partner for the assignment, she doesn’t think it will get done without an obtuse amount of excessive data.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥: </p><p>
  <em> How many g2s do you think i could chug in 30 seconds </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mermista is challenging my honor </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>She snorts.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>
  <em> dude WHAT honor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> PLEASE dont die </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i’d like u very much alive thank u </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥: </p><p>
  <em> The honor of Grayskull who fucking knows </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re avoiding the question WOW </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Adora found dead in etheria idk how the meme goes </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Am i still seeing you tonight? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> of course idiot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> umbrella academy wont watch itself </em>
</p><p>
  <em> also ur a pretty good pillow </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥:</p><p>
  <em> :( Is that all i’m good for </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> yes❤️ </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥:</p><p>
  <em> Betrayal has never looked so pretty </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips. This <em> thing </em> with Adora might still be new, but it’s just about perfect. Sometimes, it feels like they’ve known each other forever. Like they were together in a different lifetime, a vertigo version of reality, where Adora may have felt as strongly for Catra as Catra is starting to feel for her.</p><p>“Adora?” Entrapta asks next to her. Catra shrugs nonchalantly. </p><p>“Yeah,” she says easily. “Just being dumb, like usual.”</p><p>Entrapta grumbles a response under her breath, her eyes unmoving from her own laptop screen. Scorpia hums across from her. The library is loud, but the corner the three of them have tucked themselves into is quiet.</p><p>“So, like...” Scorpia starts, and Catra loathes the tone of her voice. She leans forward to take a sip of her iced coffee.</p><p>“How’s the sex?”</p><p>The coffee dribbles down Catra’s chin.</p><p>“Yo, wha- I- dude, the fuck?” Catra manages to sputter through the stream of espresso. “None of your fucking business, that’s what.”</p><p>Scorpia and Entrapta both raise an identical eyebrow at her, and- oh, <em> god</em><em>.</em> They’re her versions of Bow and Glimmer.</p><p>“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Catra,” Entrapta starts slowly. “I’m going to take it that you two haven’t had sex, then.”</p><p>Scorpia nods, turning red. “I- y’know, now that it’s a topic of interest, I have noticed you getting a bit more…” She trails off and makes a wide, vague gesture to Catra, who sneers.</p><p>“More fucking what?” she snaps, and Scorpia nods like it’s a conformation.</p><p>“More… touchy, I guess.”</p><p>“Oh! Are we talking about sex? I’m almost finished with that kama sutra book my parents gave me!”</p><p>Scorpia’s ears grow impossibly pink as Perfuma slides up behind the booth they’re sitting at, tucked to the side of the wall near the front door. Catra sighs in exasperation, and Entrapta sends a jovial wave.</p><p>“Perfuma,” Catra smiles fakely at her, all teeth and nothing genuine. “How very lovely to see you on this beautiful day. With all of that… lustful glory.”</p><p>Perfuma gasps, softly, and touches a hand to her heart. “Oh, Catra, how sweet of you to say! It’s always lovely to see you, as well.”</p><p>“That failed spectacularly,” Entrapta mutters beside her. Catra sends her a weak kick under the table.</p><p>“So, we’re talking about sex? Honestly, I’m so glad that the three of you are finally opening up to new topics and possibilities! You can’t imagine how hard it is to get Scorpia to try a new posi-”</p><p>“Um, wow! Okay, there! Little, uh, little too much, ‘Fuma! Bit too much, there,” Scorpia interjects, waving her hands up at her to halt her sentence. Perfuma shrugs, unbothered, and drapes her arms across Scorpia’s gigantic shoulders.</p><p>“So, how is your sexual relationship with Adora, Catra? Having a healthy sexual relationship, especially early on in the emotional one, can be a big factor in mainta-”</p><p>“They’re not having sex,” Scorpia chirps.</p><p>“They’re not even officially dating,” Entrapta adds at the exact same time.</p><p>Killing the both of them would destroy her legal career, but, then again, she hasn’t even decided to go through with it.</p><p>Catra’s phone buzzes on her thigh. The sensation is drowned out by the feeling of her hands slapping against her own face in a movement of exasperation. She drags her fingers down, pulling the skin on her cheeks down with it, and she wills every ounce of self-control in her body to fall in line.</p><p>“It’s none of your business, alright? We’re taking things… slow. We’re taking things slow,” Catra manages to grit out. Scorpia raises an eyebrow at her.</p><p>“Uh, was that a <em> her </em> thing, or more of a <em> you </em> thing? Honestly, Wildcat, that sounds like more of a <em> you </em> thing,” she says, doubtful.</p><p>“It was an <em> us </em> thing,” Catra corrects, her tone harsh. “We both agreed to just take things slow. So, there’s no label, or anything like that. We’re… we’re just being us for right now, I guess.”</p><p>While Catra hadn’t actually voiced her concerns to Adora regarding an official label, she’s certain that Adora must have, at the very least, picked up on them.</p><p>“Hm,” Perfuma hums, and Catra wants to punch her in the throat. “But, you’re not even having sex?”</p><p>Catra will claw her own eyes out if she has to hear the word 'sex' one more time. Vivid and incredibly filthy daydreams involving <em>Adora</em> and <em>pressure</em> and <em>heat </em>and<em> that beautiful, cocky smile of hers </em>take up too much space in her brain. It's distracting, but at the same time, it's the guiltiest pleasure that she can't get away from. It's jarring, really, how quickly her mind will drift away from an assignment or a conversation and towards the image of Adora holding her against a wall again. Adora kissing her neck and holding her thighs flush against her waist. Adora bending her down over a table, leaning down to mutter in her ear. Adora below her, laying on the bed as Catra kneels above her mouth, her jaw moving and her eyes firm.</p><p>Adora with her hand between Catra's thighs, working her fingers through the looser curls of hair at the base of Catra's head, pressing soft and slow kisses to her cheek, telling her how much she lov-</p><p>A jolt of panic courses through Catra before she can even finish the intrusive thought.</p><p>Something reminds her that she's in the middle of a conversation, and everyone is waiting for an answer. Before Catra can comment, though, Scorpia cuts in. “No, they’re not. But, by God, do they need to. At least, for Catra’s sake. Her ‘For You’ page is filled with a lot of things that made me wish my toilet bleach isn’t vegan.”</p><p>Perfuma lets out a sound of understanding, but Catra thinks that her understanding of the situation is quite far from hand. “That’s not uncommon- not at all- but for a woman of both of your calibers, it’s-”</p><p>“Shut up,” Catra hisses, and Perfuma nods calmly at her. “It’s still new, okay? I’m not gonna fuck this up with her. I don’t want to rush her into anything she doesn’t want to do.”</p><p>Perfuma nods understandingly. “That’s perfectly reasonable! Of course. Your emotional relationship comes first. Though, speaking on a much more personal level of sexual relief, I have quite an array of toys I’m happy to let you bo-“</p><p>“Please,” Catra squeaks. “Please. Shut the fuck up.”</p><p>“I- Alright, shutting up, now. Can I add one more thing, though?”</p><p>“I don’t think I can stop you, at this point.”</p><p>“If you want to have sex, you should just talk to her about it. I know Adora will appreciate your honesty. Maybe having sex will help you overcome whatever mental blocks that are preventing you from feeling completely comfortable with a label or a serious, exclusive relationship.”</p><p>Catra opens her mouth to snip at her, but she pauses for a moment. Perfuma makes a lot of sense, honestly. Maybe, if she's able to get past this <em> one thing </em> she’s scared of asking, she’ll have an easier time in the future with the seriousness of their relationship.</p><p>“... Thanks,” Catra offers softly, not raising her head to meet Perfuma’s eyes. She sees the girl nod out of her peripheral vision, and Catra’s response seems good enough for her.</p><p>“Scorpia, honeybun, it’s time for our research methods class!” Perfuma smiles, bending down to press a kiss to Scorpia’s forehead. </p><p>“Oh, yeah! Almost forgot. I’ll see you guys later, then,” Scorpia says to a grimacing Catra and an aloof Entrapta. As she’s walking away from the table, Entrapta jumps up from her seat.</p><p>“Caffeine,” she grumbles. “I need four shots of espresso to finish reading this research article.”</p><p>Catra stares down at Entrapta’s shaking hand. “For the love of God, ‘Trapta, please only do three.”</p><p>“I will not condemn myself to that promise, as there is no legal obligation to do so.”</p><p>Entrapta is gone from sight in less than a second. Catra’s phone buzzes at her again. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>Glimmer Moon:</b>
</p><p>
  <em> i HAVE to laugh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Attachment: 1 Image) </em>
</p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>Her head whips furiously around to try and find her, but she doesn’t see Glimmer anywhere.</p><p>“Bitch, I’m sitting right next to you.”</p><p>Catra’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest when she turns to the left and sees Glimmer lounging in the chair next to her.</p><p>“How the fuck did you- you’re, like, a sorcerer. Jesus.”</p><p>“I get that a lot,” Glimmer says flippantly. “Listen. You and I are the same.”</p><p>Catra grimaces. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”</p><p>“No- listen. Bow and I went through the same thing when we started dating.”</p><p>Catra scrunches her nose. “You live with your boyfriend? And, like, have sex with him with a roommate in the apartment? That’s fucking desparate. And weird. You just… have sex when Adora’s around?”</p><p>“You and I both know that Adora is more dense than black matter.”</p><p>Catra tilts her head. “Fair. She’s so much smarter than anyone gives her credit for, though. Even if she’s kind of an idiot.”</p><p>“That’s the nicest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone. Simp.”</p><p>“Choke.”</p><p>“Anyway,” Glimmer continues, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of her iced coffee. “I wanna make a few things clear. One: I may not actively hate you anymore, but I still don’t like you. Not after all of the shit you’ve pulled on me. So, don’t take me trying to help you, or whatever, as me being friendly. I’m doing this for Adora, and Adora only.”</p><p>Catra shrugs. “I don’t really fuck with you either, Sparkles.”</p><p>Glimmer bristles at the nickname, but rolls over it. “Two: this entire celibacy thing you two have going on is pissing me off. Me, specifically. Bow is a saint, and I love him so much, but Adora is trying my goddamn patience. I love her, but she’s being so annoying about it, and Bow keeps telling me to let Adora handle it on her own, but, like-”</p><p>Catra leans forward to sneer in Glimmer’s face. “Are you really sure it’s a good idea to be talking about Adora to me like that?”</p><p>She can tell that Glimmer means well, obviously, but the way she speaks about Adora and her struggles with such a cavalier tone rubs something uncomfortably wrong inside of Catra’s stomach.</p><p>At Catra’s, Glimmer pauses. Her eyes go wide with alarm, and she jerks backwards from Catra’s stare. “I- okay, chill. I didn’t mean it, like, in a mean way. I’m just trying to help Ad-”</p><p>“Why don’t you let Adora be a big girl and let her talk to me herself? Didn’t you literally tell me that you didn’t want to be a middle man the last time there was a problem?” </p><p>Catra leans back into her seat, satisfied at Glimmer’s stunned silence, and looks down at her dry nail beds. A manicure is long overdue.</p><p>It’s ironic, really, because Catra’s words are painfully hypocritical. That irony is not lost on her, but it’s muffled as she pulls her mind away from it.</p><p>“... Whatever. Fine. I was just trying to help,” Glimmer huffs, looking defeated. Her genuine disappointment at the shutdown rubs Catra entirely the wrong way.</p><p>“Look,” she starts. “I don’t want to hate you, either. I’m turning over a new leaf, or whatever. But, not for you. I’m doing it for Adora because you’re one of her best friends. I may not hate you anymore, but I still don’t like you, either. Trying to help someone is much different than getting involved in shit that’s not your business.”</p><p>It took her quite a long time to understand the difference between the two. She’s proud of her words, and she thinks that Scorpia would be, too.</p><p>“Hey, I-”</p><p>“Stay out of it. It’s private, and whether or not Adora and I have sex is none of your fucking business, Glimmer. You’re not her mom, or her sister, or her fucking girlfriend. So, drop it.”</p><p>The possessiveness over Adora that consumes her should be alarming, but in the moment, it’s not. It <em> is </em> private- something that does not and should never concern anyone, especially <em> Glimmer Moon. </em> She should be feeling quite a lot of things right now- offense, embarrassment at the subject, but anger falls short on all levels. If there’s any feeling that talking about Adora brings her, regardless of the context, anger is certainly not one of them.</p><p>“You’re not her girlfriend, either, apparently. So, maybe you should stop fucking acting like it, or actually make it happen. Adora deserves better than that.”</p><p>Glimmer’s words are like a slap to the face. She stands, her expression furious, and she leaves the table silently.</p><p>Catra slinks back in her seat.</p><p>
  <em> Adora deserves better than her. </em>
</p><p>It’s a fact- a genuine truth, a citation, a cold, hard fact. Adora, in her kindness and her positivity and her beauty, absolutely deserves someone better than Catra, who can’t even pull her own thorns out before letting someone touch her.</p><p>She thinks briefly about texting Adora, but she knows that she’s at practice, or with friends, or doing something that requires her undivided attention. Adora has obligations and responsibilities outside of her, and given the fact that Adora’s not actually her girlfriend, she knows better than to hover over her like she actually is.</p><p><em> “If I could spend every second with you, I would,” </em> Adora had mumbled into her shoulder one night, snuggled into her side as Ozark plays softly on Catra’s laptop.</p><p>Catra didn’t believe her, but she wanted to.</p><p>Adora’s not distant- not, by any means, on purpose. She’s just a busy woman with a busy life filled with meeting the demands of other people. The more that Adora dedicates herself to soccer and the fame that she’s accumulated, the bigger the part of Catra that thinks that Adora actually <em> enjoys </em> it grows.</p><p><em> “Motherfucker,” </em> Catra mutters to herself, and she knows where her mind is about to spiral into.</p><p>If she didn’t enjoy it, Adora would be spending more time with her. If she did, she would be spending less time with her. But, even as Adora gets busier prepping for the championship tournament qualifiers, as she gets busier being She-Ra, her devotion of time towards Catra doesn’t change. She doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad sign, but Adora throws herself into her so-called ‘responsibilities’ that she says to loathe and dread, and as that devotion grows, her devotion to Catra stays at a plateau.</p><p>It’s a paradoxical loop that Catra’s mind traps itself in, and she hasn’t figured out a way to claw out of it just yet.</p><p>Entrapta slides back into the seat next to Catra, and Catra jumps at the sudden movement. Entrapta pulls her mouth away from one of the three open cans of Reign that are stuffed into her arms, with tiny straws sticking out from the tops.</p><p>“What did I miss?”</p><p>“Some would call it a ‘western standoff’,” Catra mutters, rubbing her temple. The unorganized numbers on her computer screen add to the pressure mounting in her head. “Some would call it a ‘come to Jesus meeting’. Either way, I think I fucking lost.”</p><p>Entrapta takes a long, drawn-out sip from her straw. She releases it from her mouth. She smacks her lips, loudly.</p><p>“Tragic.”</p><p>Entrapta starts to babble on about their project, but Catra’s too busy making a to-do list in her mind to pay her any attention.</p><p>One: Talk to Adora about having sex. </p><p>Two: Lower her emotional guard enough to talk to Adora about being official.</p><p>Three: Be Adora’s girlfriend. </p><p>Well. There’s one thing she can probably knock out of the park in the next week. The rest, though, aren’t as likely.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Catra’s having a rough day.</p><p>The power goes out in the sorority house, so she has to shower and put on her makeup in the dark. Then, she’s halfway across campus, sprinting through an unexpected rainstorm, when a Blackboard notification tells her that the class has been cancelled. One of her nails breaks. Scorpia spills microwave ramen all over her carpet. The resident campus streaker runs right past her on the way to her early-evening lecture. She drops her can of Bang in the central quad, and it spills all over her new Air Force One’s. Her STIG dies right when she gets the biggest nicotine craving she’s ever felt in her life. </p><p>Adora has only texted her once today, too busy with practice, class, and preparing for her next prime-time ESPN interview.</p><p>Most pressingly, however, is that the dull ache between Catra’s thighs that has only gotten worse as the day’s progressed.</p><p>So, when Adora asks if she’s free later that night, Catra texts her to come over before all logic and reason can tell her not to. </p><p>The knock at her room’s door twenty minutes later tells her that today is the day she probably has to have the sex talk with Adora.</p><p>At this point, she really has nothing else to lose.</p><p>Catra almost rips the door off of its hinges and is met with Adora’s shocked expression.</p><p>“Hey, y- oh. Um. I- Wow. You look…” Adora trails off, and Catra raises an eyebrow at her. </p><p>“... You look mad.” Adora’s eyes look downcast, but Catra registers it too late.</p><p>“Today hasn’t been the greatest fucking day I’ve ever had. How did you get past house security?” Catra snips, and Adora grimaces.</p><p>“... Did I do something wrong?” she asks, and her voice is achingly soft. Catra drops her guard and her expression. She sighs, and the force of it releases the pressure from her shoulders and her back as she steps to the side to let Adora into her room.</p><p>Even just hearing Adora’s voice is enough to pull the anger from the day’s inconveniences out of her body. Adora smiles as she steps gently past Catra and into the expanse of her room.</p><p>“You didn’t do anything wrong, stupid. Why would I ask you to come over if you did?” Catra chuckles, sadly. Adora’s eyes are lit up as she takes the room in, and her gaze fixes on the mini popcorn machine tucked into the side of her gigantic room.</p><p>“I don’t know, to yell at me? Either way, I don’t care, because I’ve never been here before! How- what is that?” Adora exclaims, bending down to peer into the popcorn machine.</p><p>Adora’s been in the Kappa Delta house many times, only when Catra forces her to swing them both by so she can pick up something. She’s never actually been into Catra’s room, though- her space is much more personal to her than a quick jog into the main hall. Catra knows that it’s hypocritical- she’s been into Adora’s room more times than she can count at this point, kissed her on her bed, used her bathroom, stolen her fruit gummies. Catra’s room, as needlessly lavish and large as it is, is a safe space for her. It’s a sanctuary from her own feelings, and as of late, Adora has been the catalyst for an onslaught of confusing, twisting emotions.</p><p>All of these things are added to the fact that the Kappa Delta security guards don’t let non-members onto the dorm floors. How she managed to get into the hallway, let alone remember Catra’s room number, completely eludes her.</p><p>Adora stares childishly at the mini popcorn machine, and Catra grinds her teeth in an attempt to steel herself.</p><p>“I didn’t even know you lived in your own room.”</p><p>“Everyone on the executive board gets their own room. It’s, like, a reward thing.”</p><p>The disco ball hanging in the middle of the room does little to draw Adora’s attention from the popcorn machine. The Street Fighter arcade machine she bought off of Craigslist sits idly, adjacent from Adora.</p><p>“This is so cool,” Adora breathes. “How does this even work?”</p><p>“... Dude, it’s a popcorn mach- Do you know how popcorn works? Have you never been to a movie before?”</p><p>“Who has the time?”</p><p>“That’s pathetic, Adora.”</p><p>“Does that mean you’ll take me?”</p><p>The tone of Adora’s voice forces Catra to suddenly remember the evening’s topic of interest. Back now is this flirty Adora- the Adora that so smoothly asked for her phone number the first time they really spoke to each other. The Adora that runs her fingers through her hair and smirks when Catra pouts for a kiss. The Adora that she can’t get out of her head, no matter how hard she tries.</p><p>The Adora that’s standing in her room, alone with her, completely clothed, looking at her in a way that drives Catra up the fucking wall.</p><p>“Why haven’t we had sex?”</p><p>And the words are out of Catra’s mouth so quickly that when she realizes what she said, she slaps a hand to her mouth.</p><p>Adora looks like she’s about to drop dead.</p><p>Catra starts to back-track, and it’s the worst ad-lib she’s ever spewed. “I- um, just kidding! I’m kidding, bro. We… definitely don’t have to do that! You know? We’re not, like… you know. You know, right? Yeah. Kidding.”</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is wrong with her?</em>
</p><p>She wishes that the ground below her would part and swallow her whole as soon as the word ‘bro’ falls out of her mouth. Adora looks on at her, her eyes wide, and her jaw slightly dropped. She looks more shocked than anything, most likely surprised by Catra’s bold choice of words. </p><p>“... So,” Adora starts after clearing her throat. She sits down gingerly on the edge of Catra’s bed, and the marble comforter clashes against her black Nike Pros. “I feel like… maybe, that wasn’t actually a joke?”</p><p>“But, what if I told you it was?” Catra counters, and she bites the inside of her cheek in regret. </p><p>“Then you’d be a liar, Catra.”</p><p>“Sometimes, people make jokes, Adora.”</p><p>“You want to have sex. With me. You- you want us to have sex. Together.”</p><p>Finally, Catra concedes, and she sighs as she presses her palms into her eyes. “I- fuck. Yes, okay? I was… I was kind of just asking why we haven’t, at least. Not, like, asking to do it right now.”</p><p>Adora nods slowly. Her eyes haven’t met Catra’s. She’s staring at the ground intently, squinting, and her thumb is idly rubbing the index and middle finger on her other hand.</p><p>“... You don’t want to have sex, do you?” Catra asks, because she can’t <em> not </em> ask. Adora looks troubled right now, and she silently berates herself for not considering that Adora doesn’t want this like she does. </p><p>It’s kind of painful to consider that Adora may want to have sex, may <em> enjoy </em> it, but simply doesn’t want to have sex with <em> her.  </em></p><p>Adora takes a deep breath in, and Catra takes that as her cue to sit on the other end of the bed. She leaves a large space between the two of them, and even though they’re only three feet apart, Catra still feels lonely. </p><p>“I- Okay. This is going to sound really stupid,” Adora starts, looking sheepish. Catra leans over to grab her shoulder, firmly.</p><p>“I already think you’re stupid,” she says encouragingly. Adora laughs, letting out a soft snort that sends butterflies into Catra’s stomach.</p><p>“Okay. True enough. So, um. I- Okay. Okay! This is fine.”</p><p>“Dude, spit it out. It’s not going to kill you.” The idea of Adora having a lack of interest in sex comes to her mind again, and this time, she voices it. </p><p>At least she already bought a new cable for her Hitachi Wand.</p><p>“We <em> really </em> don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to,” Catra says, slowly. Adora’s head whips around to stare at her with wide blue eyes. “Like, honestly, it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal. Sex is cool, for sure, but it’s not, like, essential. It’s fine, I s-”</p><p>“No!” Adora shouts, waving her hands frantically at Catra. “No! No, I- no. I most definitely, um, do. Want to have sex. With you. Yes.”</p><p>When Catra takes a breath in, it’s filled with relief for her own personal well-being. “Okay. Honestly, I’m still okay either w-”</p><p>“I want to have sex with you.”</p><p>The way Adora says it makes her breath catch in her throat, and delicious heat fills her veins. It’s not meant to be genuinely suggestive, let alone flirtatious, and Catra knows this, but the firmness of her voice and the roll of her tongue’s accent around the words sends her into the dizziest of spirals.</p><p>“Uh,” Catra sputters. “Uh, yeah, I do, too. So, what’s the damage?”</p><p>Adora looks down at her hands and drops her gaze.</p><p>“I have really rough hands,” she says softly, almost so quiet that Catra doesn’t catch it. “They’re, um, really rough, and they have a lot of, ah… what’s the word? <em> Callos</em>,” she breathes, her eyes flicking from side to side. Her face scrunches up. “Calluses. Oh, that was an easy one. Damn it.”</p><p>Her slip is endearing, but even so, Catra is still mildly confused.</p><p>“Okay? And?” she says, tilting her head forward. Adora looks up to meet her confused stare with sad eyes.</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” she mumbles. “I don’t want to hurt you, and my hands feel like… um... sandpaper.”</p><p>It’s true- Adora does have hard, working hands. The calluses on her fingertips compensate for her short nails when they drag up and down Catra’s back whenever they snuggle together in front of a laptop. The firmness of her hands compared to the rest of her smooth skin gives lead to a slight mystery, given the fact that soccer is known for being a sport that is played with zero hand-ball contact. Her rough palms are wide, her left one scarred softly, but her long fingers are slender and nimble.</p><p>“I told you it was stupid.”</p><p>Catra almost laughs, but doesn’t, given the sincerity in Adora’s demeanor. “Is that it? You’re not gonna hurt me. I can take it. But, if you’re not comfortable with using your hands, that’s fine.” She clears her throat as other methods of the activity in question flood into her mind. </p><p>“Like, trust me. That’s… that’s very fine.”</p><p>Adora, however, doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. “I- how do you have sex without using your hands?” She lifts both of them up, spreading her fingers and flexing her palms. “Is that not the whole point? How would I be able to…?” She gestures vaguely to Catra and jerks her head forward in a motion that says, <em> ‘Are you serious?’. </em></p><p>Catra is deadly serious. “... Adora,” she starts, and sometimes, it’s so unnervingly charming how dense Adora can be.</p><p>“... You know that you can just use your mouth, right?”</p><p>Adora blinks at her.</p><p>“You fuckin’ serious? Was that really not something you considered?”</p><p>“I- Uh. I didn’t know if you would be okay with that,” Adora mutters lamely. Catra bites the inside of her cheek and shifts her thighs on the mattress.</p><p>“I think I’d prefer it, actually. For right now, at least,” she mumbles, rolling a piece of the comforter between her fingers. She’s not usually quite blatant about her sexual desires, mostly preferring to act first and speak about it later through any method that doesn’t require an in-person conversation.</p><p>If she can help Adora become confident with using her fingers, though, that’ll be a successful conquest in and of itself. The image of Adora hovering over her, her lips on her neck, fingers pumping in and out, pressing her into the mattress-</p><p>Catra clears her throat and refocuses her attention onto Adora.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Adora asks, her voice low and firm. Catra nods and tries her best not to shift again in her spot.</p><p>“I’m about as serious as I can be right now, dude.”</p><p>“What’s stopping you?”</p><p>“I- Uh.” </p><p>Catra falters because she remembers too late that Adora, for all of her charming aloofness, is a lot sharper than everyone gives her credit for. A cocky smirk forms on Adora’s lips, and Catra wants to kiss her and slap her at the same time.</p><p>“Oh, okay. I get it.”</p><p>“... Get what?”</p><p>“You <em> were </em> talking about having sex right now.”</p><p>“I- No! No, I wasn’t. No.” But, it’s too late to argue with Adora, because she’s already figured her out. Adora turns fully to Catra and leans forward enough that they’re just a few inches away from each other, and Catra’s stomach burns with pleasure at the look in Adora’s eye.</p><p>“You text me to come over at ten-thirty at night, and the first question you ask me is about having sex. You’re cute, but you’re not subtle.”</p><p>Catra could scoff, but her throat is too dry with anticipation and embarrassment. “What am I not subtle about?”</p><p>“The fact that you’re turned on right now and want me to take care of it for you.”</p><p>Catra’s glad she’s sitting, because she feels her entire body go weak. “... Uh.”</p><p>Her mind is drawing complete blanks right now, because Adora is sitting in front of her, <em> so close, </em> asking to do the thing that’s been taking up the entirety of Catra’s daydreams for the past month. It’s not enough right now, though- she wants Adora to <em> take </em> what she wants.</p><p>“You know that you can always say no,” Adora continues, breezing past Catra’s verbal falter, and she leans forward to ghost her lips over Catra’s. Her body moves on its own as she brings a hand up to cup the back of Adora’s head and pull her closer. She turns towards Adora completely, and Adora crawls forward on the bed to rest her hands on the top of Catra’s upper thighs.</p><p>The touch is deliriously wonderful, and she’s wearing a pair of shorts, so she can feel the heat of Adora’s hands on her skin. Adora sinks into her and Catra meets her halfway, opening her mouth the slightest bit to let Adora take what she wants. She holds back a whimper as Adora slides against her, wet and hot and wanting.</p><p>“I’m not going to say no, because I would be lying if I said this wasn’t kind of a booty call,” Catra manages to whisper against Adora’s lips. Adora pulls back suddenly, looking amused, and Catra tries to lean forward to capture her lips again.</p><p>“Am I just a booty call to you, now? Wow.”</p><p>“No,” Catra mutters, sitting up to kneel on the bed. She leans forward to wrap two arms around Adora’s shoulders, and Adora grabs the back of Catra’s thighs to pull her into her lap. The new angle and pressure against her is intoxicating, and Catra fights to keep her focus on the words she wants to say. Adora’s hands curl around the back of her thighs, squeezing gently and pulling them just a bit closer, and Catra rocks forward with the motion. “I actually kind of like you.”</p><p>“Do you like all of your booty calls?” Adora chuckles. </p><p>“You’re the only person I wan- shut up,” Catra snaps half-heartedly. Adora’s hands glide up to push under the hem of Catra’s shirt, and she arches her back as they both slide up to ghost across the skin right under her bra. She feels dizzy- dizzier than she did when they had their first <em> real </em> kiss- and Adora pulls away to smile cutely up at her.</p><p>“How about you make me?”</p><p>It’s all the motivation Catra needs to finally, <em>finally</em> act.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Adora says later, flushed and catching her breath. Catra nods slowly, continuing the dance of her fingers on Adora’s chest.</p><p>“Yeah,” she murmurs, tracing a small heart under Adora’s collarbone. She feels the most relaxed she’s felt in months, snuggled up against Adora and feeling absolutely boneless. She wants to stay like this forever with Adora- curled against her under the thick blanket in her cold room, drawing shapes and patterns on her chest, biting back a grin every time Adora leans down to press a kiss to her hairline.</p><p>“... Do you <em> want </em> to be my girlfriend?”</p><p>Catra’s head snaps up.</p><p>Adora sits up, too, her face etched with concern. “I- no, I’m sorry, I didn’t- I don’t want to rush anything. I- we can still go slow.”</p><p>“No,” Catra murmurs, ignoring the painful throb of her heart in her chest. “No, it’s okay, Adora. You’re allowed to ask that.”</p><p>Adora nods, slowly, and her throat bobbles. “Okay. I was just wondering, I guess. It’s, um, it’s been a little while. Not- not that it’s a problem.”</p><p>How can she put up her defenses and leave her heart on the table at the same time?</p><p>She can't. The dominant will always, always overpower the weaker.</p><p>“I still want to take things slow, is all. You know? Kind of… see how we are together.”</p><p>It’s not entirely a lie. She does want to discover themselves, separately and together, with and without. It’s healthy, it’s easy, and it’s safe. The other part of Catra- the part of her that’s locked away into the deepest, most private parts of her mind, sings at Adora’s question.</p><p>The answer to Adora’s question, wholeheartedly, is an absolute yes.</p><p>Catra’s reality, however, can only give her a no.</p><p>Adora nods, and loose strands of blonde hair falls into her eyes. Catra wants to push them back and kiss her forehead, but the intimacy of it scares her. </p><p>“That’s okay,” Adora says, and her eyes are genuine. “I understand that. We can just… keep going slow. That sounds alright.”</p><p>“That sounds alright?” Catra echoes back, because it doesn’t sound alright to her, even though it's entirely hyporitical. It’s her request, her ground rule, her safest and most comforting starting point. Venturing out of it is something she both dreads and something she thinks she’ll fall apart without.</p><p>She wants Adora, wants all of her, and the thought alone is both sickening and liberating. But, she will hurt Adora, surely. She will hurt her, poison her, twist her like she’s twisted her own self and bring Adora down from the pedestal she has climbed to the very top of by sheer determination alone. She can’t do that to Adora, and by result, she can’t do that to herself.</p><p>She can’t lose Adora. Maybe, the safest option is to not have her- not yet, at least. Just until she knows she can handle it.</p><p>Adora’s silent for a moment. “That sounds alright,” she repeats, and she’s smiling so softly at Catra that she could melt in the warmth of it. Adora leans down and presses her lips to Catra’s collarbone, letting her head sink into the warm divot in her skin.</p><p>“I have to go soon,” Catra’s mouth lies. She doesn’t know why she says it, when all she wants to do is stay and play with Adora’s hands and fall asleep curled up to her.</p><p>“You don’t have to do anything,” Adora mumbles into her skin. “‘S a free country, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Not really,” Catra shoots back, and the chuckle Adora breathes against her skin sends fireworks up her spine.</p><p>“I’ll head out with you,” Adora says, shifting out of Catra’s hold to sit up. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome or make you late.”</p><p>Her hair is tousled and her face is flushed a beautiful pink color. There are freckles spread across her shoulders, and the tan lines of her jersey look like small shadows in the dim light of her room. </p><p>Catra is breathless. </p><p>“Come on,” Adora smiles, snaking her hand under the small of Catra’s back and pulling her up. “I think I threw your underwear somewhere near the desk.”</p><p>“Dude!”</p><p>“What? It’s a search and rescue mission. We have to keep our sex life alive somehow.”</p><p>“We’ve only had sex once, Adora.”</p><p>“So, you’re implying that we’re going to have sex more?”</p><p>“I hate when you’re like this.”</p><p>“You’re smiling, Catrina. I think you’re lying.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>She walks Adora to her car and smiles, betraying herself, when Adora leans down to press a kiss to her forehead before climbing in. Her heart is pounding with both affection and dread as she watches Adora drive away from the parking lot, standing near the entrance to the house’s garage.</p><p>Catra doesn’t have anywhere to be- not at this hour. She doesn’t really know why she lies to Adora, but as she watches Adora’s car disappear from view, she realizes that she needs a moment to collect herself after the night. </p><p>Last month’s problem may not be a burden to bear anymore, but now, there’s an even bigger problem that she can’t make go away as easily.</p><p>Catra slowly unlocks the garage door and makes her way over to her car. She’s on autopilot when she puts her car in reverse and backs out, and when she zones back into reality, she’s on the small road that leads out of the main part of campus. Catra puts Spotify on shuffle as she drives aimlessly, trying not to think too hard about Adora while simultaneously trying to burn the image of Adora’s back dimples into the back of her eyelids.</p><p>She had sex with Adora. Adora had sex with her. They’re not dating- at least, not officially- but they go out on dates and have sex and, for all intents and purposes, do everything that a real couple does.</p><p>
  <em> Are they a real couple? </em>
</p><p>There’s no label, so they’re not. It’s the easiest counter that Catra has for herself. She may think of Adora as her own girlfriend, in the most hidden part of her desires, but that only rears its head to complicate things.</p><p>She knows that she can’t just take without giving, but she doesn’t know what to give to Adora. She doesn’t know if she has anything that Adora wants. She doesn’t think she <em> can. </em></p><p>Her car brakes slowly at a red light, and Catra huffs out a breath and turns the volume dial up a notch.</p><p>She had sex with Adora. Adora had sex with her. They’re not dating- at least, not officially- but they go out on dates and have sex and, for all intents and purposes, do everything that a real couple does. They’re not a real couple, there’s no official label or title involved, and Catra may have just complicated this ‘thing’ with Adora as a result of her own selfishness.</p><p>Adora is the most selfless person she’s ever met- it’s evidenced by the way she is with Catra. Catra, on the other hand, only knows how to take.</p><p>The problem is that Adora cares about her, listens to her, is patient with her, <em> understands </em> her, but Catra can’t even fathom a reality where she becomes Adora’s girlfriend and doesn’t completely fuck everything up. Then again, she’s already fucked everything up before even getting the title.</p><p>
  <em> Are they a real couple? </em>
</p><p>Catra grits her teeth. It’s 11:39 P.M, according to her dashboard clock, so she begins her slow drive back to Bright Moon’s Greek row. </p><p>She’s parked before she realizes it, and she’s already halfway across the garage on sore feet when her entire month is suddenly, painfully ruined.</p><p>“Your parking is a bit crooked, Catrina.”</p><p>Sharon Weaver’s voice pours over her spine like cold, deadly water.</p><p><em> “Mother,” </em> she spits, and turns on her heels to meet her mother’s eyes. “Why the fuck are <em> you </em> here?”</p><p>Sharon Weaver steps out from behind her Mercedes-Benz with windows too dark to be legal. She’s got her dark, red scarf pulled up over her chin, her lips, and her nose. Her mother’s cold, dark eyes stare curiously at her, and Catra almost scoffs at the facade of her mask.</p><p>Almost.</p><p>When she takes another step closer to Catra, her body takes a step back. Sharon Weaver smirks down at her, and though Catra can’t see her lips, she can tell from her calculating eyes.</p><p>“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” she says easily, her voice bored. Catra grits her teeth.</p><p>“Yeah, I know. That was on purpose.”</p><p>“My calls, as well?”</p><p>“Yes, you fu-”</p><p>“Enough.”</p><p>Catra’s neck jerks back as her mother’s hand shoots out to grab the bottom of her jaw. Long, sharp nails, too much like her own, dig into her skin, and Catra forces herself not to wince.</p><p>“You will not avoid me any longer, girl,” her mother hisses. Catra maintains her facade of stillness. The fingers leave her jaw, and she presses her nails into her palm to keep her hand from moving upwards.</p><p>“The Board is meeting in six months to consider new appointees for CEO trainee. You’re going to be on the call when they do so,” her mother says, and her voice is reserved, like nothing that happened moments ago happened.</p><p>“I- wait,” Catra sputters. “If you’re going to be at the meeting, I don’t need to be there. I stopped being F.Z’s ambassador years ago. Do it yourself.”</p><p>“Catrina,” her mother coos, and her tone is condescending in the way that it drips. “Why wouldn’t the top applicant want to attend her own consideration meeting?”</p><p>Catra’s stomach sinks.</p><p>“No,” she breathes. “No, I- I didn’t apply. I didn’t even apply. You said I could wait until I finished my Master’s degree.”</p><p>She’s changed her own plan, of course, but her mother doesn’t need to know. Her new plan involves never stepping foot inside of Fright Zone Weapons for the rest of her life.</p><p>“Aren’t you so lucky, then? You didn’t even need to do so. All it took was one conversation with James Prime to let him know that there was only ever one person for the job after my departure.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be in charge of that fucking horror house,” Catra spits, and her mother’s eyebrows dig downwards in rage.</p><p>Fright Zone Weapons is as terrifying as it sounds. The company sells exclusively to private military contractors, but it does nothing to follow any semblance of ethical regulation. Catra has been watching men and women be maimed, physically exhausted, and verbally abused in the weapons manufacturing warehouses since she was a shy teenager. The company builds weapons, but the company itself is a poison. </p><p>Catra’s smart enough to have clawed her way through her mother’s lying insistence that the company was doing good by employing almost half of Washington Heights. That escape was due, in part, by seeing more and more people in the neighborhoods she frequented before their move walk around with a litany of scars on their hands and bags under their eyes.</p><p>“You will,” her mother spits back. “Do not confuse this, girl. When you take over, I will still be operating behind closed curtains. As long as you do what I say, the both of us win. You will have more money than you know what to do with, and I will maintain the company that I fought tooth and nail to build for years.”</p><p>“I want to finish my degree,” Catra says, and it’s a half-truth hidden in a half lie. </p><p>Sharon Weaver tilts her head, and the gesture is painfully condescending. Catra tastes copper on her tongue.</p><p>“Why would you want to wait to finish your degree, when the entire point of your degree was to prepare you for the engineering aspect of the job?”</p><p>“That logic’s a bit fucking backwards, isn’t it?”</p><p>“You have something you want to stay here for,” Sharon Weaver says, and she smiles. Catra’s stomach twists painfully.</p><p>“No, I don’t,” she hisses, and her mother’s smile widens.</p><p>“You’ve always been terrible at lying to me, Catrina,” her voice drips, and she takes a step forward. Catra takes another step back in sync with her. “It’s a girl, isn’t it? Tell me, who is it? Anyone of prominence?”</p><p>“It’s nobody,” Catra defends, but the mistake is already made.</p><p>“So, it’s true, then. Someone here has caught your eye and removed you from the path I have worked tirelessly to pave for you. Tell me, girl. Who is it?”</p><p>“It’s nobody,” Catra lies again, because Adora is everything. Adora is <em> too much </em> and <em> not enough </em>and everything she’s ever wanted and everything she’s ever feared.</p><p>“You’ve always had a type, though, hm? All of the girls whose hearts you broke in high school. All so similar in look, in demeanor. Athletic. Successful.”</p><p>There’s a pause, and then:</p><p>“Adora Grayskull is quite the successful young woman, from what I understand. So much accomplished with what little she had to work with. She’s impressive, no?”</p><p>Black spots fill Catra’s vision. “How the fuck did you-”</p><p>“Two and a half months ago, I received an ESPN notification from the News application on my cell phone,” Sharon Weaver chuckles mirthlessly. “It was a highlight reel from Bright Moon’s fourth home game.”</p><p>“And?” Catra challenges. It’s a battle she already knows she’s lost.</p><p>“You were at the center of the picture of the crowd on the front page, sitting with that gigantic girl you insist on calling a peer. You were looking right at Adora Grayskull. I’m your mother, Catra. I know what you look like when you take a great interest in something.”</p><p>The taste of copper in Catra’s mouth grows heavier.</p><p>“I’m positive that someone like her would have taken great interest in someone like you, given your name and your status. Though, it eludes me how the two of you may have met.”</p><p>Catra wants to tell her mother that it’s none of her business. That Adora has absolutely nothing in common with the girls she saw in high school, that they are so viscerally different on every level from Adora. That Adora still doesn’t know what her mother really is, or what Catra really comes from.</p><p>That Catra has an endgame that doesn’t include Adora already, written in stone and sealed with blood that isn’t hers.</p><p>“Get fucked,” Catra snaps instead, and she turns on trembling legs to leave the area as fast as she can. Her mother says nothing as she takes her first few hurried steps towards the garage entrance of Kappa Delta’s house.</p><p>“End it now, while it is still irrelevant. You cannot afford distractions, Catra. Not when my hold on the company’s power is on the line,” her mother’s voice echoes. Catra picks up her pace.</p><p>Then: “Do not make me act when you fail to. And, you will be at the Board’s meeting. I don’t believe that you want to face the consequences of not doing so.”</p><p>“You don’t control me,” Catra hears her voice say.</p><p>“I control more than you know.”</p><p>The door opens and slams behind Catra’s back. She exhales shakily and leans her head on the doorframe, waiting until she hears the familiar engine start and fade into the distance.</p><p>It doesn’t.</p><p>Catra locks the garage door entrance and nearly sprints up the stairs. She doesn’t remember taking her keys out of her bag, or unlocking her door, or throwing her backpack onto her desk.</p><p>She stands in the middle of her room for too long, staring at her own feet while trying to slow her breathing, before the buzz of her phone catches her attention. She feels like she’s dreaming, in the worst way possible: her eyes feel numb, her hands feel numb, and the world feels overwhelming and false. </p><p> </p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥:</p><p>
  <em> Is it weird that i kind of miss you already </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s been like 45 minutes but still </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Anyway Adam is coming into town </em> <em> next Thursday, he’s staying at our apartment </em></p><p><em> and you’re more than welcome to come h </em> <em> ang out if you’re free! </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Catra doesn’t feel like she’s in her own body as the nails on her thumb click across the screen.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> sounds good </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>A-Puerta-uh</b> 🚗💥:</p><p>
  <em> Okay!!! </em>
</p><p><em> Anyway I don’t want to bother you and i </em> <em> t’s pretty late, so I’ll see you in Humanities </em></p><p>
  <em> tomorrow? </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Adora’s tone sounds strange. She’s never texted with such eloquence, intentional or not intentional, and if Catra were in a more solid state of mind, she probably would have thought about saying something.</p><p>Instead, though, Catra doesn’t reply at all. </p><p>She sets her phone down on her night stand and falls face-first onto her bed, letting the sudden pain from her nose hitting the mattress wake her from her numb reverie.</p><p>She drifts off, make-up on and boots still laced, thinking about her twisted mother’s empty threats and a lopsided smile that could light up an entire city.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LMAO i know that i promised smut in this chapter on tumblr, but i decided to post it separately in a series for this universe because this chapter is already long as fuck and it didn't really fit. it's going up soon!</p><p>also: i just wanted to add that seeing you all create art of AIBRIY is so, so incredible. i feel incredibly honored that you guys would take time out of your lives to create something inspired by this story. it's insanely fucking motivating and the highest honor that you can give me while also keeping me so, so humble.</p><p>thank you to everyone who's been on this ride with me. we're halfway done, guys!</p><p>(or are we?)</p><p>(no the fuck we not)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. interlude: adora</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adora thinks, watches, and feels.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NAFSNFDFNSNDFJSDNJFI LISTEN..... WHAT WE NOT GONNA DO IS TALK ABOUT THE HIATUS</p><p>riotdisciple@tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>September 12, 2020</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>2:39 P.M</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adora feels like she’s watching a movie in slow-motion when it happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Audi is gorgeous- matte black with pristine, silver rims on it- but the driver more-so. She has short, curled hair that comes just above her ears, a myriad of piercings on her left ear, and long, black nails. Adora doesn’t know much about moisturizer, but she thinks that this girl puts on enough because her dark skin absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>glows</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something familiar about her, too. Her cheekbones are high set, she has a button nose, and she’s staring right back at Adora- whose shirt is half off- as her car drives right into the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora is moving before she can even process it. She hops the fence of the practice field like she’s done it a million times and runs across traffic as the light turns yellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY!” she shouts before she can stop it. The girl whips her head around, and suddenly, Adora feels entirely too self-conscious- sweating and panting from practicing under the hot sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar, now, at this closer angle. She’s stunning, too, and Adora is almost too stunned at the way she turns her head around to look at her with </span>
  <em>
    <span>different colored eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span> to remember that she watched the girl </span>
  <em>
    <span>crash her car.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Adora asks, rushed. She reaches out to grab her by the shoulders before she can tell herself not to overstep, searching for any injuries that she may have. The girl reddens almost as soon as Adora grabs her, and she panics for a moment before remembering just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck did you get over here so fast?” the girl blurts out, finally. Her voice is just as attractive as she is- </span>
  <em>
    <span>and familiar, so damn familiar-</span>
  </em>
  <span> raspy and low.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No brain damage, then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um. I jumped the fence. I saw what happened,” Adora says, suddenly embarrassed at her behavior. The girl doesn’t pay that any mind, though, as she keeps her gaze on the ground and turns her head towards her car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m good.” The girl steps away from Adora’s grasp and walks around to the front of her car again, assessing the damage. “God fucking damnit. It doesn’t look bad, I guess. Just some body damage. It should still be fine to drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adora asks again, stepping forward. “I mean, you... crashed your car. You shouldn’t be driving a crashed car.” She pauses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Short hair, piercing eyes, perfect cheekbones-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora wasn’t close enough to see Scorpia and her friends clearly at the game yesterday, but she was able to find Scorpia just by hair color and height alone. The girl sitting to her left, yelling to her about the Humanities assignment, was stunning- </span>
  <em>
    <span>short hair, piercing eyes, perfect cheekbones-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re Catra from Humanities class!” she exclaims, smiling at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl’s eyebrows raise, and suddenly, Adora remembers the strange reality of their first actual meeting. She drops her smile as quickly as she can. “You crashed your car, Catra from Humanities. That sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra barks out a laugh.  “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it sure does fucking suck.” The girl seems flustered, but Adora would be if she crashed her own piece of shit car, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though. She’s gorgeous, she’s right here, and Bow keeps telling her that she has to let herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘want what the heart wants’.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Right now, her heart wants the gorgeous girl that she may or may not have daydreamed about </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> meeting yesterday during an ice bath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora’s life is at a standstill- school, practice, matches, sleep, repeat. No room for adjustment, no room for improvement, no room to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mara’s voice, Glimmer’s voice, and Bow’s voice all overlap each other as her mind pinpoints on their repetitive, exhausting mantra of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘it’s okay to want things’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It may be true, but it’s not for Adora- she has too many people depending on her to be at her peak self, the entire country watching her, the entire nation expecting her to be perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a simple premise, really. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How can she be perfect if she’s not constantly working towards being perfect?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a lesson that Adora learned the hard way at a very, very young age. One misstep can be an egregious mistake. A distraction is a gateway towards failure. It’s not practical to want things, things like this- not with the kind of life that Adora has been forced into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Catra from Humanities crashed her car while looking at Adora during practice, and it’s the biggest breath of fresh air that she’s felt in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora reaches a hand out to her, slow and steady.  “I don’t think we’ve met properly, though.  I’m Adora.”  She smiles down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra reaches out to grab her hand, and immediately, Adora feels entranced by her soft, firm grip. Her fingers are long, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora clears her throat, suddenly, and looks back at the car. Nothing looks too bad, really, but the front of the car is clearly damaged. Catra’s halter top shows off the smattering of freckles on her shoulders, and her jeans hug tightly around her waist and thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra is beautiful, in every sense of the word. Adora, as air-headed as she is would be an absolute fool not to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She doesn’t expect this to go anywhere, though- it wouldn’t be unlike the rest of Adora’s life if Catra rejects her offer. She prepares herself briefly before letting her mouth move faster than her brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about this?” she says, walking over towards the front of the car.  “I’ll call one of those, um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Not now. What’s the word?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Car helper things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra snorts. “... A tow truck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora snaps her fingers instead of hitting herself on the head for her lack of brain activity.  “That’s the one. They can come and get your car to get it fixed at the body shop up the road.  And I’ll drive you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra turns back around, sharply, to look up at Adora. The upward tilt of Catra’s jaw to make eye contact with her makes Adora realize just how tiny Catra is- how much height she actually has on her. Being six feet tall has its disadvantages, truly, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> has its perks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s jaw is set, but her eyes are soft. “Uh, you really don’t need to do that. Go do your soccer thing, or whatever. It’s fine. I can do it myself. Don’t sweat it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora takes a small step forward, trying to conjure all of the best smooth-talking skills that Adam’s ever taught her into one conversation. “They won’t care if I leave. I mean, I think I should. This is kind of my fault.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true- the team won’t care because all they tell her to do is take a break or leave early. When Catra raises an eyebrow at her, incredulous, Adora grins shyly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s now or never.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You were staring at me when you crashed.” Catra pales immediately, and Adora feels something inside of her tighten at the sight of her almost curl into herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh... sorry,” Catra stutters, and Adora wants her to be anything but.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay!” Adora says quickly, putting her hands up.  “Sorry, I just, uh. Well. You had your window down.” She clears her throat. “I… I was looking at you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s eyebrows shoot up, and she looks almost surprised, but in a pleased way. Adora knows that she can barely read a ‘STOP’ sign when it’s five feet in front of her, but she wants to take Catra’s reaction as a good sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Adora continues, trying to keep her faux suave composure. “Let me drive you? I’ll take you to get coffee while you wait for your car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Catra hesitates, just for a moment, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, of course. She’s read this all wrong. Maybe she was just interested in the practice drills. Of course she wouldn’t want to like she wants-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Catra breathes. “Yeah, okay.  Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, bright and real. Her heart feels light- lighter than it’s felt in a long, long time. Catra smiles back, shaky and shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>September 14, 2020</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>9:32 A.M</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adora wants to walk Catra to Humanities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just about the stupidest thought she’s ever had, because it’s absolutely pointless. Catra had to go to the class during syllabus week to keep her spot, so she knows exactly where the lecture hall is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called being chivalrous,” Bow mumbles over a mouth full of breakfast sandwich. Adora sighs, keeping her stare down at the Messages app on her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s stupid,” Adora mumbles back. Bow shakes his head and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightens his posture, clears his throat, and grabs Adora’s forearm with a firmness that almost scares her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not stupid, Adora,” Bow says pointedly, emphasizing each word. Adora doesn’t believe him, not really, but she nods anyway. “The coffee date with this girl went well. You flirted. You got her number. You have a class together. Just text her, dude. I don’t think she’s gonna say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a beautiful day on campus. The sky is cloudless, and the sun is warm and bright. It smells like fall- </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> fall- with something nostalgic about the cooling temperature and the slight humidity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She knows how to get to class, Bow. It’s… it’s a stupid idea, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a stupid idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora flinches at the husky voice before spinning on her heels to come face to face with Catra, who is sipping on an iced coffee and staring up at them with hooded eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora is thinking about dropping out of school to become a plumber,” Bow supplies quickly. If Adora didn’t love him, she would punch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra’s lips purse as she ponders this for a moment. “There’s a lot of value in trade jobs. People need plumbers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, fixed a toilet when I was sixteen,” Adora babbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Congratulations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to walk to class?” she blurts, and Catra lets her straw fall from her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’m walking there. Right now. You know, since I can’t park in the fucking lecture hall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With me. Do you, um, want to walk with me? To the class that we have together? Because we’re in the same class?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, are you having a fucking stroke? I- yeah, come on. Apparently the TA’s take attendance now. Don’t know when this country went to hell.” Catra saunters ahead of Adora, who takes a frantic look back at Bow. Bow throws his hands up and raises his shoulders, his eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you coming or are you going to plumber school?” Catra calls, throwing a hand over her shoulder to beckon Adora.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming!” she says back, and takes a light jog to catch up with Catra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... That’s what she said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bow is actually male and uses he/him pronouns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Fuck, you are so lucky you’re good at sports.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora, for some reason, almost bristles at the implication of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fútbol</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but spares a glance down at Catra. She takes silent pleasure in her red cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s easier to just call her ‘She-Ra’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped into the habit the night the match commentator had screamed the nickname into the microphone, out of the speakers, and into the stadium. She doesn’t remember much from the match- just that she had been angry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> angry that day, and she didn’t know why. Maybe, the other team had said something to her beforehand. Maybe, they were acting rudely towards her team. Maybe, it was just a bad day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the first night in Lawrence Hordak’s Group Home for Wayward Children, Adora had a lot of bad days. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Abuse can take many forms,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> her therapist says at fifteen. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Even though you’ve left that situation, the effects it has on your brain still hurts you. It’s normal for your brain to process and deal with anger and sadness in many different ways. You’re not some soldier anymore, Adora, even though you might still think like one. But, you don’t have to act like one.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, instead of holding her anger and pain down inside of her and keeping it locked away, she gave it a name. A vision, a voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s always been easier to pretend that She-Ra is someone else- not a part of Adora’s own self. The suffering weight of obligation and inadequacy eats away at her the second she wakes up every morning, and thinking that the pain belongs to someone else is soothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re going to have to speak for yourself,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the prosecutor had told Adora and Adam the day of their citizenship hearing. At nine years old, Adora doesn’t even think she could spell ‘prosecutor’ if she tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your parents didn’t leave you enough American money to let you hire an attorney. None of the public defenders in this circuit have interpreters, and- I- wait. Do you know how to speak English?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At that age, Adora understood bits and pieces, here and there. Her mother had made it a point to share parts of her American childhood, such as English, and if Adora thinks hard enough, she can vaguely remember the taste of homemade french fries. Adam, on the other hand, had been a much slower learner than Adora. He struggled with words, and listening was out of the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers nodding when Adam didn’t move. She also remembers the way she felt when the prosecutor just grinned at her. That first real burden that she takes on is still crushing, still hurting, because maybe- </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe-</span>
  </em>
  <span> if she had been better, she could have been with Adam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When first Catra tells her that she wants to be a prosecutor that day in Starbucks, something inside of her flares up on the defensive. But, Catra isn’t like that man was- she understands hardship, too. Compassion is hard to pull out of her, but it’s there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora sees that it’s there. She thinks Catra can be the best attorney in the country, if she really wanted to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora doesn’t remember getting to the federal courthouse- only able to recall how Adam had held back terrified tears as she stood and leaned down into the dusty microphone at her table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mara shows her the transcript of the hearing five years later, it’s the first day she spends out of Lawrence Hordak’s Group Home for Wayward Children. She has a bad day then, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora had always liked Mara. She came to eat with them, sometimes, when Mami and Papi made dinner on the grill outside. She liked eating on the special blue plates for outside dinner, and she had always loved to watch how Mara’s special badge reflected the setting sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Mara finds Adora at fourteen, she finds her with the litany of scars scattered across her body and brain. She cries, for some reason, and Adora realizes years later that Mara cries because the scars aren’t armor like she thought they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Adam move into Mara’s home together days later, and Adam is different, too. He’s taller, his hair a bit darker, and his voice is pitchy. He cries when he sees her, too. When he tells her he thought she was dead, the inadvertent comparison to her parents- who left them with </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing-</span>
  </em>
  <span> enrages her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She-Ra still helps with that, too, at first. As she gets older, She-Ra becomes a twisted mirror of Adora instead of a mannequin. She carries all of the weight and pain and anger and sadness that Adora can’t bear to handle alone, but she carries it with a strength that makes her envious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It worsens when the nickname follows her to Bright Moon University. She doesn’t like to think she chose Bright Moon because of her mother’s fascination with the folklore of the city the school is in, but she can’t rule it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She-Ra becomes a star, a martyr, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hero</span>
  </em>
  <span> to people who watch her play. Adora knows that Adora is a good player, objectively, but she knows that people think </span>
  <em>
    <span>She-Ra</span>
  </em>
  <span> is </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The prediction statistics and bubble predictions and the onslaught of awards and Instagram edits and Youtube compilations of She-Ra bombard her so heavily that she shields behind her for cover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her senior year at Bright Moon University, as captain of the <em>fútbol</em> team and an accidental national superstar, she decides to finally become She-Ra. She wants to be stronger, to be smarter, to be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has to be better. She can’t not be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra sees right through her the day she meets her, and it’s horrifying and freeing all at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>October 14, 2019</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>3:37 P.M</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hell is that made out of? Frozen cum?” Catra asks, staring down at Adora’s hands that hold her mouthguard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s plastic, but, try again,” Adora quips running it back under warm water. Catra huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like cum to me,” she mutters. Adora chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know what cum looks like?” she teases, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Catra’s cheeks turn that beautiful color whenever she’s flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, one: fuck you, and two,  do you really have to leave so early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way a flit of sadness drips from Catra’s voice catches Adora’s full attention. She sets her now-clean mouthguard down on the towel next to the sink and turns to look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Adora starts, and she cocks her chin down. “You could always come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra scoffs. “Right. I’m hardly fucking dressed for that. I’m ugly as fuck right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone with eyes would disagree,” Adora mutters as she looks Catra up and down. Her cheeks go impossibly darker at Adora’s words, and she brings a hand up to tug gently at her sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” she mumbles, and Adora’s heart lurches at the sight of the small grin pulling at the corner of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing she adores about Catra is that she is so effortlessly </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Beautiful dark skin, the tight curls of short hair, the mesmerizing dichotomy of one blue eye and one hazel eye. The way she is meticulous about the upkeep of her acrylics. The way she curls her fingers around her cheek when she’s focusing on something across from her in a library study room. The hollow of her cheekbones and the soft curve of her nose. The perfect arch of her eyebrows and her impossibly sharp canines. Her full, dark lips and sun-kissed, freckled nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way she separates her food so none of it is touching, and eats small, polite bites of one thing at a time. The soft lilt of her low, hoarse voice when a song she’s particularly fond of comes on shuffle during their obsessive drives to Starbucks. Her quick temper and calculating attacks on someone when they’ve wronged her, or angered her, or take one two many steps out of line in front of her. The way she smiles when she’s with Adora- loud and soft and happy and reserved, all wrapped up into five feet and two inches of one </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra stares back up at her, dressed in an oversized Led Zeppelin t-shirt, tiny biker shorts, and a pout. “ESPN wants to see you go be sexy, or, whatever. They don’t wanna see-,” she gestures down to her body, “-frump.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora snorts. “‘Frump’?” The word is unfamiliar to her, too lost in the nuanced linguistics of American college vernacular.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Glizzy’ does not mean what you think it means, Adora,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Catra said to her one day after she shouts at Perfuma, who passes by them looking horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, not looking picture perfect. Whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words startle Adora with their implication of Catra’s self-loathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your fourth interview with them in two months, dude,” Catra continues, walking back to Adora’s bed and dramatically flopping down. “Take a fuckin’ break, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish,” Adora mumbles. She wants nothing more than to sink back down into the mattress with Catra and continue their binge of Attack on Titan, even though she has absolutely no clue what’s happening and only watches so she can try to share Catra’s excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do you think you’ll be back?” Catra asks airily, and Adora can sense the forced nonchalant tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not soon enough,” Adora says without thinking, and she sees Catra’s lips curl into a shy smile at her words. Adora clears her throat and tries again. “Probably an hour and a half. These things never take very long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra nods, fiddling with her acrylics. “Cool. You, uh, sure I’m okay to stay here while you’re gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I’ll just be right up the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s silence, and then-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Will you take me to Starbucks afterwards since you’re interrupting my binge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> binge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora, the hamster running around the rusted-ass wheel in your head goes brain-dead whenever you watch this show. Tell me who Connie Springer is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “... The horse face guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- Christ. Okay. Nevermind. I’m not stopping this binge for you. To be fair, though, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Attack on Titan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora chuckles, turning back to dry her mouthguard. “I thought you said you think I’m smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potato, tomato. Go now before I stop you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Adora quirks an eyebrow and turns fully to face Catra, who matches her expression. “You really think you’d be able to stop- how did you put it the other day-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adora, let’s not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Six feet of absolute beefcake?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? I won’t be held liable for things I say under pressure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were threatening that waiter at Waffle House by saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to attack </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You ate half of my pancakes while waiting for your food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Semantics. Is that a go for Starbucks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora hums playfully, and Catra chucks a pillow at her. “If I say yes, will you explain to me what’s happening in the show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, we’re in season three and you’re still clueless?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is the short guy afraid of germs? How is that important? Is that important for later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra chuckles and stands. “No, it’s not. Well, maybe. The manga is still being written. Who fuckin’ knows.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra slides up to Adora and rests both of her hands underneath her collarbones. She pats her twice, firmly, and Adora can’t tell if it’s an act of friendliness or something more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try and have fun at least, dude, okay? I know you think these things are annoying, even if you don’t say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The facade cracks like a shattered window at Catra’s words. Adora almost sputters- almost- before settling on, “I should go before I’m late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catra nods and steps back, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m getting a venti drink at Starbucks. You’re driving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora beams down at her, though, and nods. She walks over to her nightstand to grab her keys and sees Catra’s phone flash with a notification.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Caroline (KD)</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Date function next week! You have 1 guest RSVP spot. Come out or you’ll be fined :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone texted y-” Before Adora can finish her sentence, Catra’s hand is lashing out to snatch her phone from view. She pulls it close to her face, scrunching her eyes so she can read the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. A date function. These things are hell to plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You helped plan it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of my job as vice president.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora ponders this for a moment. She hums softly and stands straight to sling her backpack over her shoulder. “Maybe you should go? I’ve been to one before with a friend. They’re… kind of fun. Depends on the right person, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora starts to step towards her door when she hears Catra say back, almost too soft to hear, “Yeah. I guess it does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s halfway down the hall, taking her Airpods out of their case, when her feet stop her dead in her tracks. Her hands still. She has to keep walking or she’ll be late to the pre-interview make-up session, tedious and tiresome. Her body refuses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adora furrows her eyebrows and shifts her stance, turning back to look at the door to her apartment. She knows Catra’s just lounging on her bed, burning through her ninth bag of fruit gummies. She wants to go back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is, though, is that even if Catra </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> there, she would still want to go back to her apartment and sink down into her comforter. She wants to shove her Airpods into her ears and listen to music until the skyline turns orange and burns through her curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Practice has been slowly exhausting her- an indisputable fact. She’s been sleeping more, eating more, trying everything she can to keep her body maintained, but her mind is a different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a daunting thought to have for the first time in years. She’s been doing these interviews since she was 17. They’re routine- they come with the job, the position, and the title. It’s expected. It’s experienced.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t want to go.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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